


Crossfire

by jusrecht



Category: Gundam SEED, Gundam SEED Destiny
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2006-06-09
Updated: 2014-08-03
Packaged: 2018-02-11 15:03:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 89,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2072724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jusrecht/pseuds/jusrecht
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They are the four corners of a puzzle, four setting stones of the peace. If one disappears, all will shatter and fall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Kira - Moments

  
There were moments in life which could not be replaced.

Kira leant down and pressed his lips on an equally eager pair, relishing the slowing cadence of the chest beneath his rising and falling. A hand climbed to his back and he shuddered when one of the fingers traced a line down his spine, momentarily pausing on places its owner had obviously known to be his weak spots and giving them a light, deliberate press. He caught the hand and set it down on the blanket of midnight blue hair, looking pointedly at his best friend.

"Stop it, Athrun."

"You're the one who needs to stop," the reply came only too readily and Kira had no choice but to smile at the mock-glare the Chairman of PLANT was patently shooting him

This, clearly, was one of those moments.

He sighed and moved away slowly, taking care not to inflict more harm to his partner further than he had done throughout the night. An identical soft sigh escaped Athrun's lips as he settled himself more comfortably in the bed and Kira threw a cover over their bare skin, taking care to whisper on his friend's ear before settling down himself, "I didn't hear you complaining a minute ago."

A low chuckle reverberated in the room and Kira felt himself growing giddy for the umpteenth time that night. Athrun always managed to do that to him. _Always._ And now the subject in question was giving him a half-lidded look like it was the most natural thing in the world to give at three in the morning.

"Who could complain when you did that?"

Slapping his friend's bare arm lightly, Kira reproached. "Stop flirting with me."

"I'm not," the lazy protest was uttered smoothly. "You just enjoy being flirted with way too much. And why are we having this conversation now?"

"Because you're picking a fight with me," he pointed out, a note of accusation slipping into his voice.

Athrun shrugged, a gesture so simple that it made Kira narrow his eyes purely out of sudden stroke of suspicion. And boy, his intuition seemed never to be wrong nowadays. The supposedly respected Chairman of PLANT stared at him deeply, emerald eyes gleaming under the dim light of his room with intentions he was certain far from innocent, and said with deliberate slowness, "With you, Kira, I rather have my fight on an entirely different stage."

Not to jump his lover for the god-only-knows-how-many-th time in the past three hours was starting to be a difficult issue, but in the end, Kira managed to get hold of his urges and glared at the devil reincarnated ten times over. No one seemed to know this mischievous side of Athrun except him, a fact which made Kira feel pleased and miserable at the same time. Half population of PLANT might faint from shock if they found out how the man they had elected to lead them through war and peace actually behaved in bed.

But he was being unfair. He realized that Athrun took his job very seriously. To know that he had helped to relieve some of the stress his best friend suffered from his work was something he found rather flattering. It was true that his position as a general of ORB also brought him a lot of mental pressure, but the knowledge that his friends were also fighting as hard if not more served as a reminder for him not to run away for the second time. It still pained him to think that once, he had let Athrun and Cagalli to fight their way through a very hostile world alone while he himself isolated himself from the world and its problems.

The world had not changed much, but they had, and for the moment, it was enough. Because they would protect the peace as long as they lived.

The sound of the flicking of fingers brought him back to focus on Athrun's long digits hovering just before his face and a pair of solemn green eyes. His friend fixed him a firm look and said, "Don't think too much."

Shaking his head, Kira smiled and replied with his gentlest voice, "It's nothing. You should go to sleep, by the way. Don't you have another meeting with Cagalli at eight later this morning?"

"Exactly," Athrun sighed and turned to the other side. Taking it as a cue, Kira wrapped his left arm around a slender waist, pulling his friend's body closer. The only problem was, he realized after trying to nuzzle Athrun's neck, was the untidy state of certain midnight blue hair which seemed to try to irritate him in every possible way.

"I should have it cut, I know," the other man's muffled voice sounded apologetic.

"Why haven't you?" he replied, starting to frustrate himself in his attempt to bring the dark blue chaos to order. "One more month and you will look exactly like that Dullindal."

"It isn't that long," Athrun hit his hand flippantly, a subtle remonstration. "Besides, I don't have the time."

"Excuses, excuses. You just want to look pretty for me."

"Kira!"

The effect was instantaneous. Athrun rarely let him down after all. Kira sniggered, staring back insolently at the indignant, rosy-hued face of his lover. "Prove me I'm wrong," he taunted, enjoying the whole situation a little too much.

That it was a wrong challenge to put forth was something he realized a moment later when Athrun deftly climbed atop of him, in those emerald eyes a definite predatory gleam, and whispered huskily, "If you allow me."

 _Bad,_ every alarm in Kira's head went off at once. The situation was very bad indeed. Not to mention it was three in the morning, possibly four.

"On second thought," he quickly said, setting his hands at both sides of his friend's face to prevent further advance, "I'd rather have you go to sleep. I don't want Cagalli to throw another temper tantrum at me for molesting you too much or something like that."

"Coward," Athrun muttered reproachfully but obediently moved away.

Kira chuckled but said nothing to contradict the accusation. He only smiled when a pair of arms drew him close and tucked his head under an all-too-familiar chin. Athrun Zala, his first love and also true love apparently. There were things he would gladly do for the other man, but one couldn't afford to be so selfish during these times, most certainly not him. Sighing softly, he snuggled deeper and mumbled, "I'm happy you're here. How long has it been? A year?"

"Eight months and seven days."

Kira felt a pang of realization stabbing his heart. Only eight months. Eight months that felt like centuries. He knew that Athrun could not come down to ORB often and his own military duties had prevented him from going to PLANT himself. There were phone calls, of course, and brief glimpses from television broadcasts, but they were different. Although he had convinced himself that this was the only way they could protect the peace, the fact remained that he and Athrun were separated by so many miles that it was virtually impossible to put a number on it. He had never doubted Athrun, but...

He bit his lips. There were too many buts that it would never end. Besides, it was nothing compared to another havoc and bloodshed which might take place if they weren't there to carry out their jobs.

Four corners of a puzzle, four main pillars of a building, four setting stones of peace - Mwu-san had called them those. Kira had simply smiled back then, fully aware of the responsibilities which came with the titles but saying nothing.

Still.

"Too long," he heard himself murmuring. "And the next time I'll be able to meet you again is?"

He felt the body under his arms stiffened and quickly tightened his hold in a reassuring fashion, inwardly cursing himself for implying something which wasn't even his lover's fault. "Sorry," he mumbled, "I didn't mean anything by that."

"It's okay," Athrun's voice was calm as he ran his fingers through Kira's short brown locks.

It was alright. They still had this moment.

Kira was thinking about tomorrow's schedule when a loud buzzing sound shook him back to reality. He felt Athrun jolt at his side and realized that the sound must be the effect of vibration of his cell phone on the nightstand next to their bed. He heard his friend releasing an annoyed groan and had to suppress one of his own. It was...what? Four in the morning? It might be broad daylight now at PLANT but he was under the impression that anyone who couldn't take something as important as time difference into account wasn't to be allowed to work for the chairman.

"You may want to turn off the vidcom first," he advised when Athrun reached for the troublesome mobile, and at the bewildered look appearing on his friend's face, added with as much seriousness as he could muster in the face of the topic he was about to bring up, "I'm not sure you want anyone to see how you look after being molested."

A pillow hit him squarely in the face and Kira stifled a laugh when Athrun's smooth voice answered to the line, if a little uncomfortable it sounded. It wasn't the first time Athrun received a call in such an unearthly hour - in his presence, that was, which was saying something since they only met each other thrice a year at most - and usually his lover's mood afterward would significantly deteriorate. Kira closed his eyes, his mind sorting through methods which he might be able to apply to soften his bedmate's mood.

"When?"

The strained timbre in that one word made his eyes flung open at once and in the darkness, he could see Athrun's face twisted in alarming concentration, the edge of their white-blue blanket clenched in one fist. Kira frowned, countless of possibilities scurrying past his mind, most of them far from pleasant, and decided that to listen was better than taking wild conjectures.

"All right, I will return to PLANT as soon as I can," a tired, final note was audible in Athrun's voice. "Report immediately if there is something else I need to know." A pause. "No, correct that. Whether there is anything new or not, I expect a report every one hour."

There was a long, dead silence suspending in the air after the connection had been terminated. Kira waited, quietly watching his friend's stony face and the newly-formed lines creasing its sides, barely visible in the darkness, until troubled green eyes turned to him. Anger, confusion, weariness. Whatever it was, he knew it wasn't good.

"Something happened in PLANT," Athrun began slowly as if he was having a difficulty finding the right words. "Three members of the Supreme Council were killed. Found murdered at their homes, I mean. They were discovered just this morning."

A sudden, horrific sensation shot through Kira. "Not–!"

"No," Athrun quickly shook his head, "not Lacus. I said members of the Supreme Council. But still..."

Still. Kira felt the word came pressing down his chest. It was the same sensation he had felt when he had, once more, climbed into Freedom's cockpit four years ago. And from the look in Athrun's face, he knew that his friend felt it too.

The brewing of another war.

Athrun inhaled a deep, unsteady breath and said, a blank repetition of his earlier promise, "I have to return. As soon as possible."

A wooden nod. "I know."

The moment had ended, the spell broken.

Kira only hoped their moment of peace hadn't.

  
 _**End Chapter 1  
** _


	2. Cagalli - Ignition

  
Waking up at four in the morning was but an ordinary happening for the Head Representative of ORB.

Waking up at four in the morning to the news that three members of PLANT's Supreme Council had been murdered however, was not.

Cagalli was sitting behind the massive table in her dining room, a cup of steaming coffee in her left hand and a brief report sent by the embassy of ORB in PLANT in the other while she tried to fight back another urge to yawn. Talking about horrible news. It was obvious that the councilmen – and woman – were murdered. Three photographs included in the report pretty much verified the theory. She glanced at them once more and winced, the throbbing in her head worsening at the sight. Murder was horrible enough, but mutilation? Not to mention, the mad killer was still at loose at the moment. Hell, even clues seemed to be nonexistent.

She sighed and ran a hand through her already untidy hair, upsetting the golden crown even more. At her right, her efficient secretary hissed and held out a small red comb under her nose determinedly. Cagalli frowned, feeling rebellious mainly due to her lack of sleep. Yes, she was about to be graced by the presence of none other but the Chairman of PLANT, but despite the title and all, it was Athrun.

_He was her close friend. Her ex-bodyguard. And it was four in the morning!_

But Donna was still fixing her a stern look and Cagalli grabbed the comb in the end. Her secretary had this annoying habit to be right every time she admonished her about something. This was certainly no exception. She remembered how fussy Athrun had been about appropriate outfits and appearance when he had been her bodyguard.

Now he was no longer at her side. She still missed him sometimes but of course she knew perfectly what he was doing at PLANT. The price was big, for both Kira and her, but it was worth it in the end. ORB was a powerful country and now with Freedom protecting it, almost no one dared to challenge her ideals anymore in fear of aggravating the sleeping demon in Kira Yamato. However, at PLANT the trouble remained. True that it had recovered from its past mistakes but no one could guarantee that another Dullindal wouldn't step up and seize the power after the temporary reign of the emergency board. They knew that Lacus had to stay neutral in her role as a mediator and so Athrun had come forward. There was simply no one else they could trust but themselves.

She took a deep breath. They were standing at the top of the world and she was aware of this. More than a few antagonistic voices had accused them of monopolizing the power and they had ignored it. It was a price they were willing to pay. Besides, she trusted herself and her friends. They had the same policy, had gone through the same battle and they knew what peace meant.

But still.

Sometimes Cagalli wondered if they were any different from Azrael or Dullindal. One could easily take the wrong path with that much power in their hand.

"Chairman Zala and General Yamato, Ma'am."

The rough voice of one of her aides delivered her back to present attention. Coming through the door was Athrun, immaculate as always, with Kira and Meyrin trailing quietly behind him. Cagalli snorted inwardly when she noticed the dark circles under the chairman's eyes – and her brother's too in that matter. _Boys,_ she thought, exasperated but amused. Restraining urges was never one of their best points.

"Athrun," she stood up and held out her hand, which was received readily. "This is a terrible incident."

"Yes, I'm sorry for the trouble," he replied apologetically.

"It's all right," Cagalli motioned for them to sit down and more cups of coffee were delivered to the table. She pushed her ambassador's report aside, noting the slight narrowing of Athrun's eyes at the action, and spoke up again, "But these three councilmen..."

"Councilman Sabnak, Councilman Buer and Councilwoman Andras," he quickly filled the blank she had left and she nodded, recognizing the names from her earlier reading material. "Yes, as you have undoubtedly known, they were murdered. I have dispatched a special committee to take a look into the matter and I'm hoping for a clearer explanation concerning the murder when I have returned."

Cagalli leant back to her chair, suddenly assaulted by anxiety she couldn't quite place why. But there was a very good chance that her instincts were true. The Chairman of PLANT _always_ had too many enemies, not to mention one as broadminded – and powerful – as Athrun.

"Weren't Buer and Andras two of your most ardent supporters?" she then asked carefully.

"Yes, but Sabnak wasn't," his reply came promptly, the extra explanation indicating that he knew what she was thinking.

It could mean nothing, she was ready to argue but then chose to keep the opinion to herself. No good in hazarding an ill guess at this stage. In any case, she was certain Athrun would be able to deal with the incident just fine. There were reasons why he had managed to climb so high in an age so young and they had little to do with lineage, looks or titles.

At that moment, the door leading to her office was opened and an assistant appeared, holding a briefcase which he handed to her secretary. The latter extracted several files from it and leant down to put them on the table, murmuring in process, "The papers, Ma'am."

"Thank you," Cagalli nodded and then turned toward her guest of honour. "Since you're going to leave earlier than scheduled, I think it's better to sign the agreement now."

"Of course," Athrun signalled for Meyrin who immediately produced an identical document from the stack of paper cradled in her hand. He scanned both documents for a few moments and then inscribed his long, curving signature at the end of the paper. "With this, PLANT agrees to the proposal of implementation of the new design of neutron-jammer."

"Very well," she said after adding her own signature. "The plan will proceed according to the result of our discussion yesterday. We will introduce the plan to the world at the international annual conference at Helsinki in November."

Athrun nodded and in his eyes she could read, _and face the risk of igniting another war, verbal and literal._

Cagalli smiled grimly. Of course. It was too much to hope that everyone would accept their idea willingly and obediently, but sometimes risks were just those things they had to take if they wanted to achieve something. No more threats of a nuclear war was good enough of a reason, but it was only if she and Athrun could convince them that no one knew how to make the canceller. Kira hadn't said a word about any probability to make one, and yet she often found herself wondering if the mind of an ultimate coordinator was indeed far more superior than she had thought. For all she knew, he might already have the design of a canceller ready somewhere.

In any case, it was a knowledge best kept hidden. She closed the files and said, "As you wish, a shuttle has been prepared for you at Kaguya. When do you intend to depart?"

"As soon as possible if it isn't too much of a problem."

She stood up, head pounding with what she suspected as the result of an overdose of formality before sunrise, and motioned toward the door. "Then let me accompany you. A car is already waiting downstairs."

The journey downstairs was relatively quiet, only sometimes disturbed by Athrun's low voice dictating instructions to Meyrin and Donna murmuring in front of her ears. When Cagalli announced that she would have the second car for her, Athrun and Kira alone, she wasted a few minutes arguing with her secretary and aides about it. They had the finest bodyguard in the world going with them in that car, she almost shouted at them. If there was a man to be feared on the surface of the earth – in the whole damn universe, really – at the moment, it was the pilot of Freedom. The disagreement was effectively ended when she slammed the door in front of their faces and shouted to her guards to get their ass moving.

"It's almost half-past-four." Kira spoke up at last once the small convoy had made a turn toward the front gate of the Athha mansion.

"We only need a few minutes to get there, fifteen at most," Cagalli said, annoyance still burning in her chest. In front of her, Athrun sat silently, eyes staring past beyond the car's darkened window to the blanket of night. _Early morning,_ she corrected herself, noting the tired but tense look on her friend's face.

"You should have stayed longer," she heard herself stating, her voice softening into a tone close to sympathetic.

Athrun flashed her a small smile. "I know, but this is much too important. I can only let my second handle so much." He fell silent for a moment and a frown made its way to his brow as he murmured, clearly frustrated, "Three members of my council. I can't believe it."

"Do you think it's some kind of protest? After all, you force almost half of the council to go along with this new neutron-jammer plan."

"I _persuade_ them," Athrun corrected, faint amusement lurking behind his green irises. "Unfortunately I cannot apply most of your ungainly methods in the Supreme Council of PLANT, Representative Athha."

"Not all of us can afford to be superfluously, dreadfully elegant, Chairman Zala," she retorted and only managed to irritate herself further when he laughed at her sharp response. It was unfair. For some unfathomable reasons, she couldn't seem to win any argument when it came to him.

But it was also a pleasant sound. She couldn't help but to smile herself.

Athrun leant back to his seat, evidently looking more relaxed, and Cagalli had to hide another smile when her brother – unconsciously or not – put his hand on top of his friend's. Thankfully they weren't in the line of sight of the driver's rearview mirror. She also tried not to stare too much. They weren't publicly obvious and she knew that she was probably the only one beside Lacus whom they trusted enough to be around when they finally behaved like lovebirds should.

"It will be very hard for them to accept the plan," Athrun suddenly said, a thoughtful look on his face.

"You mean the other countries?" Kira asked.

"Yes," he nodded, giving his boyfriend a pointed look. "One of the most obvious reasons will be that it's _you_ who design it. They'll say, oh no, it's The Big Four again."

"The Big Four," Cagalli repeated, somehow feeling more amused than annoyed by the close-to-mocking title. "Pretty creative. Let's just hope they don't find a Poirot to overthrow us."

Athrun shot him a surprised look. "I don't know you still have the time to read novels, Cagalli."

"Are you kidding? Christie has been my favourite author since I was fifteen!"

Kira raised his eyebrows and deadpanned, "Now I know where your curious nature and nosiness come from."

She glared. "Shut up, both of you."

Of course none of them saw it fit to obey her at that point. And Cagalli knew that she could only sulk so much in the presence of the two most important men in her life, with them acting so subtly affectionate even less. She couldn't decide which was more heartwarming, Athrun's melodious laughter or the gentle smile on her brother's face as he watched the younger man laugh.

We would be able to go through this, she vowed to herself.

"You've seen the pictures, right?" Suddenly Athrun sounded solemn once more.

"Yeah," she frowned, the terrible images coming back flooding her mind like a black, scurrying group of flies. "Horrible. Inhuman. I mean, couldn't the murderer kill and leave the body intact?"

"I don't know," Kira spoke quietly, pondering. "If it's terror they aim for…"

"Being able to break into the heavily-guarded residence of three council members and murder them all together at one night is enough to strike terror in anyone," Athrun said, his voice laced by silent anger. "But perhaps you're right. There is no other explanation. Maybe whoever did it wanted to enhance the dramatic effect by leaving mutilated bodies on his wake. More impressive, I suppose," he added sarcastically.

Cagalli found herself wondering. "To terrorize PLANT? Because of _the_ agreement?"

"Possibly," his eyes darkened at the idea. "Anyway, there is another problem with the media. I've tried to hold the press back about this incident, but I'm not sure I can do it more than twenty-four hours. It's too big and the people have the right to know."

Of course. And she knew perfectly what would ensue once the words got out. Cagalli leant forward and looked straight into his eyes. "If you need any help..."

For a brief moment, there was a smile brightening his friend's strained face. "I know that I can always count on you. Thank you."

The car skidded to a halt almost without a sound and a guard quickly descended to open the backdoor. She left first, giving the other two passengers a few final seconds of privacy, and greeted her ranks of attendants who had already waited in front of the shuttle port. It was still dark outside but everyone seemed to be in the highest alert. Bad news, she thought, words must have spread about the murder. She glanced at Athrun who had just came out from the car and seemed to have arrived at the same conclusion.

From the end of the ranks, an officer stepped forward and saluted. "The shuttle is ready, Mr. Chairman."

Athrun looked up and smiled at the formal appearance of Lieutenant General Shinn Asuka. "Thank you, Shinn," he returned the salute before turning back to Cagalli. "I should go," he stated, sounding almost reluctant.

"Have a safe journey," she replied, hating the formality but unable to find a way to avoid it under the stares of her armed forces, and extended her hand. To her surprise, he ignored it and pulled her into an embrace instead. Nothing too intimate but for a moment she panicked and almost pushed him away, newspaper headlines of an unfounded rumour flashing before her eyes.

"Thank you for everything, Cagalli." His voice was gentle, quiet.

"It's nothing," she mumbled, fighting back the tears that somehow had made their way to her eyes before continuing with a steadier voice, "I'll see you again at the conference then."

He nodded and turned toward Kira. A firm handshake was all that passed between them and Cagalli ignored a wave of hopelessness which had swept her at the scene in front of her eyes. Appearances, she knew, were important in politics. Only a very selected few knew the true nature of relationship between the two war heroes and clearly Athrun preferred it that way while he was still in the chairman's seat. His position had been precarious enough of late without scandals storming about him.

It couldn't be helped. There were prices to pay.

Still, she felt the painful throbbing of loneliness settling in when his shuttle had departed. She looked at her brother and found him also looking at her, compassion in gentle violet eyes.

"Everything will be okay," he said, his hand clasping her shoulder reassuringly.

 _Everything would be okay,_ Cagalli repeated to herself.

A minute later, watching an officer running toward her almost departing car, she knew everything was not okay. She jumped down from the vehicle as the man halted, his words coming out frantic but clear.

"Representative, there is something wrong with the shuttle!"

The control room was not far and yet it felt like miles away as she sprinted in its direction, blood raging in her ears. Countless possibilities offered themselves to her frantic mind but she refused to consider any of them. Not yet. It might be only a trivial mistake, nothing serious.

Kira was the first to arrive at the control room with her following not far behind. The low murmur in the room abruptly ceased at their appearance, leaving a blank silence and the sound of her own heartbeat thundering in her chest. Cagalli opened her mouth and was about to ask one of the myriad questions which seemed to have multiplied as seconds ticked by when she noticed Shinn standing in front of the widescreen at the centre of the room, red eyes intent on the image of the shuttle leaving the earth's atmosphere.

It was pretty normal. What was not, however...

"The second engine is also down! Evacuate the chairman!"

She whipped her head toward the source of the sound, a speaker at one side of the control panel. More panic-stricken voices floated into the room from the line, most of them indistinguishable, colliding with each other and the sound of cracking engine.

"Hurry, it's–!"

An earsplitting blast and then a static buzzing sound. Cagalli froze. Her world seemed to have stopped spinning.

No one spoke.

Slowly, she turned toward the screen and watched the shuttle explode in a sickening display of firework. The pieces left after the smoke had subsided came plunging down to earth, enticed by gravity, and glowed bright red.

 _They were burning_ , she realized, fighting back a wave of nausea. _Burned by the atmosphere._

She heard a faint choking sound next to her but couldn't bring herself to turn around and face her brother.

  
_**End Chapter 2  
** _


	3. Lacus - Falling Apart

  
The meeting was at recess.

Lacus remained at her seat, watching the whirl of men and women dressed in dark, formal uniform leaving the council room. Some had their head bowed in distress, others hardly bothered to cover their mounting frustration, and the rest seemed to be truly at loss in front of the catastrophe which had befallen them so suddenly. Some were murmuring as they passed by, worried and uncertain, while others kept their silence, jaw set in quiet resolution either kindled by confidence or mere desperation.

Put simply, the Supreme Council was in chaos. It was not surprising, she thought sadly, after the murder of three council members and the unexplained accident which had happened to their chairman.

Lacus was realistic, but she always had faith in her most trusted friends. Athrun had survived many bloodsheds, had lived through two of the most gruelling wars in the history of mankind with his life always on the line. Certainly it would take more than just an accident to finally end him.

 _To end him_. The words shot through her body like a cold, silver bullet. In life, there were unpredictable things and death had been the most unpredictable of all since days of old and – without a doubt – until times to come. Not even a superior technology or Coordinator's excellent faculties could render it controllable in the slightest. Death reigned above them all.

Still, to think that she would never see Athrun anymore was just a little too… strange. Too foreign. There had been occasions when she had dreaded such thing as much and every time he had always returned, not unscathed but safe nonetheless. To expect differently now was decidedly difficult.

"Lacus-sama?"

The deep, concerned voice broke her train of thoughts and she looked up, finding a pair of hazel eyes gazing down politely at her. "Councilman Hayes," she replied, a little smile readily displayed. "Is there anything I can help?"

"I was just wondering," he started, careful but not hesitant. "I was just wondering if there has been any more news yet from ORB. Seeing as you know the Head of Representatives personally."

"No," she shook her head gravely. "ORB hasn't said anything more to my knowledge. The last you undoubtedly have known of, when they claimed responsibility for the accident."

The handsome face frowned, disapproval slowly overshadowing cordiality. "That...doesn't help much, does it?"

"Probably not," Lacus admitted, her voice neutral. She didn't want to put the blame on ORB, but no matter from what angle they looked, the fact remained that the accident had happened just after the chairman had departed from ORB, in a shuttle prepared by them no less. Probably to keep trusting was just a little too far-fetched for some when there was no proof to state the otherwise, and it was well-known that Algrend Hayes fell among them who believed and respected Athrun to the highest degree. Not with as much reverence as Delaware or several others did, but to suddenly lose a leader one trusted would obviously affect one's disposition at certain levels.

Hayes wasn't the only one, she reflected uneasily. The meeting she had been present at just moments ago had been filled with an endless succession of questions, suspicions and speculations, and yet no clear decision had been made. Most of them only wanted to know why their chairman was not among them right now and they had busied themselves with debating and finger-pointing until former Chairwoman Canaver decided to sternly remind them that it was best to decide what course of action to take soon before more troubles rose and caught them unprepared.

"And the search party under Commander Rosand hasn't yielded any veritable result until now," Hayes stated blankly.

"We have to be patient," Lacus said, sounding calm despite her own restlessness. When all the councilman managed to do was to look even more troubled, she searched for his gaze and held it steadily. "Do you believe that the worst has befallen our chairman?"

"I sure hope not," he answered quickly, his eyes darkening. "PLANT may fall apart."

_And brought the peace down with it._

Lacus laced her fingers with one another, trying to keep them steady despite the shiver the ominous thought had just brought her, and said placidly, "If that is so, then it is our duty to keep it from happening until he returns."

"Of course," Hayes replied, firmness finally returning to his voice. "Forgive me for being too rash, Lacus-sama. Please excuse me."

The councilman departed with a small bow and Lacus let out a soft sigh, relieved that the conversation had ended. However, from the corner of her eyes, she caught a glimpse of Eileen Canaver looking at her with a pair of shrewd eyes. The older woman looked away inconspicuously and returned to her quiet discussion with Councilman Delaware. Pretending not to notice, Lacus carefully did the same, but then her gaze fell to the empty seat at the head of the circular table.

It was strange to see it unoccupied, the constant presence of its owner no longer there, and for a long moment she stared at the empty space, not knowing what to feel. Yesterday she had returned abruptly to PLANT from her visit to Tokyo, the news one of her assistants had frantically conveyed to her ringing in her ears. But it wasn't a mistake. Cagalli, white-faced, had confirmed as much when she had called her. A rescue team, at Canaver's request, had been sent to the vicinity of the location where the accident had happened, and an investigation team to ORB. Both reported periodically to the council, but so far, there had been no encouraging news yet.

Lacus had prepared herself for the situation which might greet her when she arrived, but it turned out that PLANT was in a worse condition than she had expected. Almost like a lost pack without its leader, and the meeting today had proven as much.

The fact hadn't fully hit her until halfway of the meeting, when the pressure had been too much and she had, unconsciously, let her gaze stray toward the empty seat. How often had she glanced at him and he at her during many meetings and conferences they had been trapped in together, and both of them would share either an exasperated smile or a look of quiet resolution. And now, he just wasn't there.

At that moment, she felt as if she had lost her source of power. She was alone.

Lacus closed her eyes. _Kira._ She wondered how he was doing. This would be a blow for him, especially with ORB to blame for the incident.

Her council robe felt heavy, a blanket of responsibility and commitment grazing her skin when she finally left her contemplation and decided to join her colleagues for lunch. To have a break was a sensible idea since it was very clear that the council would not be able to produce anything other than more quarrels and disagreements in the state they were in. More than anything, they needed to cool down and clear their heads.

A few seconds later, she changed her mind and headed to her office, requesting her assistant to bring her lunch. Once there, she reached for the portable phone on her desk and hit the third speed dial. Two rings later, a tired face appeared on the small screen, answering with an equally tired voice. She noticed the formal uniform, the interior of ORB Head Representative's office and the fact that it must be no more than six in the morning at ORB, but chose not to mention it, knowing that to handle more questions probably would only add unnecessary burden to the representative.

"Cagalli-san."

The golden eyes gained certain sharpness at the appellation she used. "Cagalli please, Lacus- _sama_."

She smiled slightly. "Cagalli."

"That's better," the Head Representative flashed her a faint grin, but it soon vanished under the weight of somberness her next words carried. "How's the meeting going?"

"Difficult," Lacus replied, trying not to sound too grim for both of their sakes. "No one seemed to know what to do now with Athrun gone. I've never realized how much the Supreme Council depends on him until now." She paused, before adding in a more anxious voice, "We may have to dispatch another squad to join the search. I will propose the idea to the council after the break."

"It has already been two days," Cagalli said quietly, but Lacus could hear what she restrained herself from saying as clear as if she had uttered it herself.

As seconds went by, the probability of finding Athrun alive grew smaller and smaller.

She bit her lips and asked, "How is Kira?"

The look in Cagalli's face alone was enough to answer her question, not to mention the stiffness of her voice. "More than bad. He didn't say anything much and he went through his job like usual, like _nothing_ happened, but he always jumped at the sound of people running and phones ringing and sometimes, when he thought no one was looking, he looked to the sky and–"

Lacus remained silent when Cagalli looked away for a moment, the breaths she took in short and shaky. "He doesn't believe that Athrun..."

"None of us does," she replied carefully, knowing that some things just should not be said. Not while everything, every hope and chance, still hung by a thread.

"He is still out there," the voice from the other line sounded resolute – or desperately so.

"Of course," Lacus said quickly, unhesitating. "Athrun is strong."

"But I'm afraid."

"That he–"

"No," Cagalli cut in sharply, like she didn't want to hear that one word being uttered. "I mean, maybe that too, but that's not what I'm talking about. I'm afraid of Kira."

Lacus raised her eyebrows, growing even more uneasy herself. "Kira?"

"He bottles it up inside, Lacus," the Lioness of ORB sounded lost, miserable. "He takes this far too calmly and I… I don't know, but I don't think it's normal. I'm scared."

Once more Lacus bit her lips, trying to quell the emotions raging inside her heart at the news. Kira. Her brave and strong Kira, so dependable, so coolheaded, so unemotional. When was it the last time she had seen him cry? He had never again, since the beginning of the second war, cried in front of her and she had never thought about it until now. He had been a crybaby a long time ago, had sobbed his heart out because everything had gone wrong and Athrun, oh Athrun had tried to kill him, but someday he just stopped crying and she didn't even question why.

Lacus had never felt so angry to herself like she did now.

But she knew why and Cagalli must have too. Responsibilities. A resolution to be strong. They knew exactly what it felt like.

Cagalli ran a hand through her hair, a distracted attempt to calm herself, and spoke loudly as if to herself, "I know I should do something, _anything,_ but I don't know what."

"Have you tried talking to him?" Lacus suggested, not noticing that her voice had become less than stable.

"Lots of times," the other answered grimly, her eyes looking dim and dull for once. "But he always managed to get away before I could get to the point. I think he knew what I wanted to talk about."

"Maybe he just doesn't want to talk about it," she tried to reason.

"I know, but he… _we_ cannot stay like this," Cagalli said blankly. "He's going to destroy himself. And Athrun–"

The representative stopped short and suddenly the ominous picture that had been lurking behind Lacus's eyes became clear. Athrun's accident, Kira destroying himself from the inside, Cagalli torn between her responsibility as a politician, a sister and a friend, and herself alone at PLANT. She saw it now, a complete, full picture she had been refusing to see.

They were falling apart.

It was so obvious that it was surprising that she had only noticed it now. Of course. Athrun was a symbol of power, the chairman of PLANT, and with his disappearance, there would be imbalance. The fact that the four of them were close friends also mattered and she almost could distinguish it now, the plan, the tangle of cobwebs. Athrun's absence would immensely affect them, personally and politically, and there would be more mistakes, more conflicts, more tricks, and somewhere, someone was watching, pulling strings.

It was only a speculation, a sensible voice told her. There was no definite proof, but the idea was already planted and now the uneasiness could not be removed. She shuddered as if the temperature in her office had dropped all of a sudden. Supposing it was true, there was bound to be follow-throughs and probably more incidents with her and her friends as the targets.

"Lacus?"

She looked up in surprise and remembered that she was still in a conversation with the Head Representative of ORB. "I'm sorry. I was just thinking," she said quickly, not willing to share her grim thoughts just yet.

Cagalli looked at her closely and suddenly she sounded very calm, as if noticing her inner turmoil. "You said it was a break? Have you eaten yet?"

"One of my assistants should be here shortly with my lunch," Lacus answered automatically, relieved by the change of subject. She glanced at the clock on her desk and added, "I still have forty minutes before the meeting starts again."

"Did they think it's ORB?" Cagalli's voice was low, almost dead calm, and no one needed to tell Lacus who the representative was referring to.

"For now, we have agreed that whatever caused the accident, it wasn't planned by ORB," she replied in her most neutral tone. "However, issues like the lack of security and such still remain. I'm afraid it cannot be easily resolved."

"I know," a wince passed across her friend's face and her voice became hard again. "Shinn was the one in charge and he hasn't stopped blaming himself for it since."

Lacus sighed, picturing the younger man, his bravery – and recklessness, a common companion of the former – and his powerful sense of justice. Like Athrun and Kira, there was little doubt that there would be self-blaming following. "It was a regrettable mistake," she said quietly, dark thoughts once more breeding in her mind. "No one expected it and it's true that he should be more careful, but to learn from this should be enough. He doesn't have to blame himself unnecessarily."

Cagalli looked at her in disbelief and the hitched laughter that left her lips a moment later was almost hysterical. "But Lacus, this is about Athrun," she said, voice close to a whisper. "Shinn respects him to a degree you can't even imagine."

_Falling apart._

Lacus closed her eyes, trying to keep the words away from her mind, trying to escape from the cheerless sound of Cagalli's laughter. There was only so much she could handle and if any of this continued…

"I'm sorry."

Slowly she opened her eyes and found her friend staring at her uncomfortably, her muted golden eyes apologizing. Lacus couldn't help but to smile faintly in return. None of them was weak, she knew it, but now and again there were ups and downs and some things just couldn't stay suppressed forever. She studied the other woman silently, wondering. Did she know? Did she suspect a bigger plan at motion behind all these?

"Anyway we have to remain calm," she spoke up at last, ending the awkward silence. "Finding Athrun should be our main concern for now."

"Yes," the voice was composed and the stoic face befitting an astute politician was once more at place.

"And Cagalli," she spoke softly, cautiously as if wary of her own words – or the thought behind it. Cagalli looked at her with a perceptive gaze of her own and she said, "Be very careful."

Her friend's lips thinned and Lacus realized that she did know.

  
 _**End Chapter 3  
** _


	4. Shinn - The Atoner

  
People said mistakes were common. Mistakes were tolerable. Mistakes were human.

For Shinn, some mistakes were unforgivable.

He was alone in the office, reading report after report from both teams, investigation and search, which by now had taken up most empty space of his desk. He had demanded for a report at every single hour and the heads of each operation had been too alarmed by his cold, bloodshot red eyes that they had practically raised no objection. But not a single word in these stacks of paper could dampen his fury. Little debris found, a scrap of the main engine here and there, but of course the rest had already been burned to nothing. There was no body, but Shinn wasn't expecting to find one.

Nothing could escape gravity.

A new surge of anger ripped through his veins and he quickly reached for another stack. At least, it wasn't as fruitless in the investigation department – though barely more consoling – and he could feel that he had done _something_ , not only waiting for reports to arrive. For the last three days, he had sped through his daily duties only to spend the rest of his day in the security room, studying every face and every moment caught by every camera. His head hurt from long hours of watching security camera recordings and his sight often blurred during work and meetings because he had not slept more than two hours since the incident, but honestly, it was the last thing he cared about at the moment.

His sacrifices had not ended in vain. Now he pretty much knew what had happened after thoroughly asking – and sometimes frightening – his subordinates and the shuttle port's officials although the identity of the person behind the atrocious plan remained to be a mystery.

He knew, but did it matter now? The accident had happened, courtesy to his incompetence. No matter what he did, he could not turn back time and prevent that shuttle from exploding and its passengers from being killed.

A regrettable mistake. Shinn almost laughed at that. It wasn't a mistake. It was his carelessness. He had called Fllaga dumb for trying to console him because it was _not_ a mistake. Mistakes would not result in you losing someone you loved and respected. Mistakes were something you could laugh off about, like the one time when he had worn his shirt inside out and Meyrin almost hyperventilated because she hadn't stopped laughing for the next five minutes. Or when he had accidentally added salt instead of sugar into Athrun's tea at a Christmas gathering and of course one could imagine the chairman's reaction after unsuspectingly drinking it.

Those people had been stolen from his life and it wasn't by a mistake. It was him, faults and imprudence and utter stupidity. If there existed a list of idiots who should not be allowed to live in this world under any circumstances, he was absolutely sure that his name would reign at the top. He jeopardized everyone around him, a plague, a time bomb, everything everyone should despise.

There had been times when he had demanded always the best from himself, paying no heed to anything else because it had been him, stupid and blind, who had done a massacre to ORB and the guilt had been tormenting him nights and days. But that one person had found him and said, " _It's okay to lie back and just look around sometimes, Shinn. ORB is still here and isn't it what matters?"_

He hadn't reacted well. Then again, he always tended to be more explosive whenever Athrun Zala was involved.

It had been two years past. And only three days ago, those words had killed the very person who had spoken them. It was all because he had allowed himself to lie back and look around.

And Meyrin. _Again._ The irony didn't escape him that once again, it was Athrun and Meyrin he had tried to kill with his own hands. He was very angry, to himself more than to anyone, even the bad guy.

Mistakes like this were not supposed to be pardonable. Shinn was surprised, upset even, that he hadn't been demoted – or thrown out – yet, but no one said anything. The Head Representative was too busy, but he remembered that one look she had shot him in the control room after the explosion, not accusing, just asking why, and it made him want to find his gun and shoot himself on the head.

Cagalli wasn't the only one. Every time he met his superior, Kira acted like nothing had happened. His orders were short like usual, his voice deep and calm, if a little restrained it sounded to Shinn's ears lately. Not a sign of fury, or disappointment, of anything but cool courtesy, like Shinn's carelessness hadn't blown up his boyfriend into pieces. He always wanted to shout at him, blaming the General for not blaming him, but Kira's bland smile always dissipated his hot, searing rage into cold realization that sometimes, to be forgiven was a far worse purgatory.

And _Athrun._

Every time he remembered that name, Shinn felt like he wanted to cry. He had been treated like a friend, a trusted comrade, and what he had given in return? A man shouldn't mope around and he didn't like self-indictment, but it was _very_ hard not to hate himself right now. He should be in hell, burned among rapists, killers and the worst sinners the world had luckily gotten rid of, because what could be a worse treachery than what he had done?

A fleeting look at the full report his assistant had provided him and his fury blasted full-scale again. Totally overwhelmed by emotion, he wiped the stacks off his desk, ignoring the crashing sound of scattered paper and having the slightest care in the world if the hard work he would have to do later in order to clear up the mess would take another portion of his sleeping hours.

Shinn wanted to die right now. In the most painful way possible.

"You can't collect and sort them all in ten minutes, you know."

He didn't bother to glance to the door. "Who cares?"

"You should," Mwu La Fllaga replied mildly, picking up a few sheets which had landed near his shoes, "because the Head Representative asks for your report. She is in her office with the General now."

There were several Generals in ORB military but Shinn knew perfectly who 'the General' the older man was talking about. He looked around, starting to feel tired and guilty because the door to said General's office was just there in front of his desk and he'd be damned if he upset Kira more than he already had.

Another spectacular feat of stupidity.

"Did I mention that you only have ten scant minutes before she skins you alive?" Fllaga spoke up again, looking marginally more amused.

"Shut up," he snapped and started to grab the nearest paper, piling them into a jumbled mess he didn't bother to look at twice. Five seconds passed before he looked up and sent death glares to the direction of the door. "Are you going to help me or just stand there like an idiot?"

"Is that any way to ask for help?" the other man sounded offended.

Shinn ignored him.

Sighing loudly, Fllaga moved through the chaos, careful not to trample anything which might be the painstaking result of someone's sleepless night. He stopped near his own desk, randomly picking up one of the papers which somehow had ended up covering the picture of his wife there, and skimming through it. Another period of silence descended and Shinn could almost _hear_ the wheels in the other man's mind reeling. That was why it hardly surprised him when Fllaga opened his mouth again.

"Kira survived it many times," he said slowly, almost carefully. "Falling through the atmosphere, I mean. And I heard you and _he_ did it too five years ago."

"In case this little fact escapes you, we _were_ in mobile suits," Shinn retorted, wishing he could make the other man shut up once and for all. "That shuttle, by the way, _exploded_."

"That shuttle did have a mobile suit."

He whirled around, almost throwing the small pile in his arm straight to Fllaga's face, and howled, "Weren't you there when I listened to the recording again and again? They didn't have the slightest damn chance! The shuttle exploded right after the second engine went down!" He heaved a long, shaky breath, painfully aware of the older man's stony face, and said again in a lower voice, "Look, stop trying to convince me that everything will be okay. I know when it isn't. I'm not a kid anymore."

"You still act like one."

Shinn refused to deign it with a reply and continued sorting through paper after paper silently until he looked up once more, finding Fllaga still frowning at him, and hissed.

"What now?"

"You need sleep," his companion stated. "Badly."

Shinn snorted but said nothing, unwilling to raise another argument or to admit that he had only slept for two hours in the last three days, that those two hours had been absolute hell because he kept seeing Athrun and Meyrin behind his closed eyelids. Lieutenant General Shinn Asuka would rather not sleep for the rest of his life than be forced to face anything like that again.

Fllaga shook his head and muttered, "Youngsters. Always so stubborn."

There had been times when Shinn would grin in return and tease the older man that he might have just offended the most prominent General in ORB, because one only needed to look at their badges to tell who worked under whom. But he always loved to hear those stories from Fllaga and wondered how the hell _that_ Kira could develop into _this_ Kira and sometimes also laughed because oh God, the two best friends had been so obvious and it surprised him that no one had actually suspected anything more than a very deep and valuable friendship going on between them.

This time, he only turned his back on the man and pretended to collect more paper while furiously rearranging the mishmash of painful emotions in his chest. The last thing he needed right now was to break down and cry in front of his mother-henning colleague.

"These are technicalities," Fllaga suddenly said as he flipped through pages in his hand. "You won't need these in a report to the Head Representative. Don't you prepare a brief one?"

"Yeah, Warren did that for me. It should be somewhere around here," he answered, relieved that his voice sounded almost normal, and started to rummage around. He remembered seeing it at the top of the stack before turning his room into this helluva mess, but seeing just how incredible the 'mess' was, he doubted very much that he could find it in ten minutes.

"Tch. You should appreciate the job your assistant has done for you more," the other man chided and just before Shinn could throw another angry fit, waved several paper right in front of his face. "Be careful next time, Kid."

He grabbed it and only needed a quick scanning to admit grudgingly that this was indeed the report. "I should go now," he mumbled, words of gratitude stuck somewhere in his throat at the sight of Fllaga's solemn look.

"Don't expect me to clean after this mess," he warned.

Shinn shot him a thin smirk, already making his way out of the door. "Suit yourself. I don't think you can work in that condition anyway."

If there was any reply from the older man, it didn't reach his ears. Shinn trudged his way silently, wondering with shadows of guilt bubbling in his chest if this was just an act he pulled to get revenge against Fllaga's though well-intended, highly unwelcome sympathy. The mess was his fault to begin with and it was only Fllaga's bad luck to share an office with him. He had to admit that his defensive manner instantly sprang out once anyone showed him the merest hint of pity.

Another fault of his. Shinn wondered if the list was already long enough to carpet his way to Cagalli's office.

The sun shone brightly when he stepped out of the Military Headquarter, pace fast but heavy. It wasn't noon yet and apparently life was still all and well despite the serious calamity which had befallen ORB. He shot a sullen glance toward a pair of passing officers who were laughing as they went, making them cower and apologize profusely under his murderous glare. He ignored it and quickened his stride, hastily passing the massive fountain in front of the Cabinet Building before any memory could catch up with him.

It was silent inside the building, the atmosphere heavy, a stark contrast to the warm sunshine and merry blue sky outside. Shinn inhaled a deep breath and prepared a solid mental bridle around his emotion. Yesterday was a chaos, when the Head Representative had asked him to come to her office, and he had to make sure that he would do nothing of the sort again with Kira around.

There was nothing as difficult as pardoning your own mistake, she had said way too calmly and on that moment, Shinn had simply forgotten that she was one of a higher rank and left the room, the door slammed behind him and Cagalli's secretary shooting him reproachful looks as he stormed past. He didn't want to listen to any of those so-called wise words again, least of all from her because she was _his_ best friend and her tone of voice had resembled _him_ so much and couldn't she see? It was exactly why she lost one of the most important people in her life.

Aforementioned secretary stood up from behind her desk when he approached, nodding curtly at him. "You are expected, Lieutenant General. Please wait for a moment."

She placed a train of firm knocks at the massive door of the Head Representative's office and opened it a second later, announcing, "Lieutenant General Asuka."

Again, Shinn took a deep breath before venturing a step into the room. Cagalli was sitting behind her desk, beckoning him to come near with a slight wave of her hand while Kira stood behind her, one arm draped across the back of her chair. Both had their eyes intent on the monitor occupying the left corner of her desk and as he slowly advanced, he could hear the gentle voice of Lacus Clyne in the background.

"…have been decided. To replace Councilwoman Andras in Februarius is former Councilman Tad Elsman, Councilman Sabnak in Martius is Leon Harland and Councilman Buer in November is Millich Leitner. They will carry out the council-related duties and their predecessors's jobs in each committee until the re-election in April."

"It is expected," Cagalli replied, a thoughtful look on her face. "What about the chain of command?"

"For the time being, each committee will hold full responsibility for their own fields of work. There is no definite resolution yet as to how long this structure will be carried out. And Councilwoman Canaver will formally contact you later about this. I just thought I could give you more time to think about the questions you are going to ask her."

"Of course," Cagalli gave her a little smile. "Thanks a lot, Lacus."

Informal phrases of gratitude and farewells were exchanged between the two women and the General and Shinn watched all these in a kind of incredulous trance. There was something incredibly wrong in the picture. A close friend had died, and while he didn't expect them to weep like there was no tomorrow, at least there ought to be a certain sign of grief – anything but that frozen calmness. His rage swelled quickly in his chest, but one sidelong glance to Kira's carefully masked face, and everything dissolved into nothingness.

Well, it was his fault. What did he expect?

"Sorry to keep you waiting," at last Cagalli addressed him and Shinn suppressed a shudder as the pairs of gold and amethyst turned to his direction. "Let's hear your report now."

"Yes, Ma'am," he answered, almost wincing at the high-pitched sound of his voice, and opened the file in his hand for good measures although he had practically remembered everything by heart.

"The results of the investigation concerning the incident happening three days ago at the 16th of September are as follows," he began. "The incident occurred as a result of severe lack of caution in the preparation stage of the shuttle. Something, presumably explosives, was smuggled into the baggage area of the shuttle, which resulted in the explosion."

Shinn paused and stepped forward to put a picture of a young man dressed in ORB military suit on the Head Representative's desk, all the way aware of Kira's eyes boring into his own. "The suspect," he explained, trying to keep his voice level. "Gerald Patti. He has only worked in the shuttle port for three months. His background is normal and the head of the Personnel Department claims that there is nothing remotely suspicious in his history. The reason why he is a possible suspect is the fact that he has disappeared for the last three days."

"That morning, he was not on duty, but he came to substitute his roommate who, as several witnesses verified, had a stomachache. He was one of the three staffs who were responsible to look after the luggage of the party from PLANT. No one has seen him after the preparation was finished. The last was the guard in front of the shuttle port who reported that the suspect had been seen leaving the port _immediately_ after the launch. The security camera has confirmed his words."

"Search and investigation have been ordered to arrest Patti," he continued, every word felt heavier than the last," but so far nothing useful has turned up. Most likely he has left ORB under a fake name and using a forged passport. We are currently going through the lists of passengers of ships and shuttles to do a background check on every one of them."

It would be one hell of a work, he knew it, but there was no point in telling anyone so. If anything, Shinn didn't want to receive anymore pity than he already had.

"What about the rescue team? Is there any news from them yet?" Cagalli asked, her steady gaze hardly betraying anything.

"Nothing which may convince us that there is any possibility of survivors," he replied and resisted another urge to shoot himself dead when Kira looked away to his right, his expression more vacant than before. Or maybe he could pray for a lightning to strike him down at this instant.

"I heard," she began again, caution and hesitance – almost fear – echoing in her voice, "there was a mobile suit in the shuttle."

Shinn ground his teeth together, inwardly cursing Fllaga since it must be him who leaked that information to the Head Representative. That stupid man. It was an empty hope. Nothing but an empty hope.

"Yes, there was," he answered heavily at last, "but so far, there is still no proof that the mobile suit was indeed used and survived the explosion."

"I see."

A thick glaze of silence coated the room and Shinn struggled to remain quiet when not the slightest reprimand came from his superiors. A small voice at the back of his mind told him that it was better to keep his mouth shut and answer only if asked or he might end up in a calamity like yesterday. Perhaps it was a punishment enough, he realized weakly a second later, their stubbornness not to blame him no matter what, because that way, his guilt would only swell and swell without a chance to burst.

He inhaled a deep breath. If it was the case, Shinn didn't think he would mind. After all, he had hoped for hell and _this_ , undoubtedly was hell.

"Kira."

Something in her voice made him look up and he found her looking at her brother with what seemed like firm resolution. It startled him for a second. He used to hate her golden eyes and now wondered how it was possible when they shone like this. Brave. Unyielding.

"Take Freedom and go look for him."

At that moment, the world seemed to have stopped. Shinn stared at her, mouth agape. She believed that he had survived. Athrun. _Survived_. He felt his head spinning madly. The mere thought of it was crazy. Ridiculous. Or was it just an attempt to console her brother?

"I'll tell Lacus of your coming," she said again and Shinn had a sinking feeling that it wasn't just a desperate attempt to console her brother.

"Wait, Cagalli," Kira finally found his voice and it sounded frail, shaky. "If I go, you–"

"I'll be fine."

"But–"

"I'll be _fine_ ," she repeated, the decisiveness in her voice leaving no place for any argument. For a brief moment, Shinn thought that the General would yield like he had so many times before.

"No," his voice gained some of its strength back, amethyst eyes burning with resolution not unequal to their golden counterpart. "ORB's position is unstable and there are too many things to be attended to. I can't afford to be absent now."

She believed it. _They_ believed it. Slowly but surely, it became harder for Shinn to stay silent, his body trembling with incredulous rage.

Athrun was _dead_. Was it so hard for them to accept that little fact?

"Kira–"

"I have promised to protect you and ORB," he stated. "And I will keep it."

Emotions were swarming behind her golden irises, clashing with each other, and when she cast a fleeting look at him, Shinn was _thisclose_ to opening his mouth and jumping into the dispute, but her next words practically demolished everything he had in mind.

"There is Shinn. He can protect me while you're gone."

His insides grew cold.

She looked at him, her lips trembling slightly. "Right, Shinn?"

There was something wrong with these people, he decided, gritting his teeth because his headache was worsening and his two superiors terrifically amazed him. Enraged him. Athrun had died because of his carelessness and he fought a wave of nausea which had risen at the thought of him given another responsibility by the same people who beyond all doubts suffered the greatest loss. They shouldn't trust him anymore. He deserved the worst.

But what angered him the most was something else, something much more personal, a tiny voice cynically whispering to him from the darkest corner of his mind that it was his chance to atone. It mortified him that such thought could enter his mind. And it infuriated him because he _knew_ he didn't deserve a chance to get any atonement.

"But Cagalli–"

"If it isn't enough, there is Mwu-san as well," she continued, her voice growing steelier with each word, and Shinn was forced to look back at her. "Take Freedom with you, Kira. Find him. I'll be alright."

The General fell silent for a moment, but in the end he still shook his head. "No. We have sent a search party and today PLANT is dispatching another one to help. They should be enough to find him. I know where I should be."

"You're talking about responsibilities _now_?" Her voice suddenly sounded alarmingly shrill.

Kira stared, clearly noticing the ominous sign in the alteration of her tone, and replied calmly, "It is my job to protect you and ORB."

"That's bullshit!" she accused angrily, sending her chair tumbling to the floor with her abrupt rising and now she stood glaring at her brother, her expression fierce. "Protect me and ORB? Don't make me laugh! You cannot protect anything in the state you're in now and you know it!"

Kira's expression turned emotionless, his whole body suddenly tensing. "It's exactly because he isn't here," his voice was strange and detached, and Shinn noticed the strangled edge in it. "You do know that peace means so much more than one person, don't you? If anything happens to you–"

"To _me_?" Cagalli was practically shouting now and it seemed that she was ready to reach out and wring her brother's neck. "Damn it, Kira! This is Athrun we're talking about! And you're his boyfriend! His goddamn _lover_! I don't remember having a brother who is willing to let the love of his life die because of responsibilities! It's fucking bullshit!"

There was a long, heavy silence following the end of her outburst, none of them uttering a word and not a sound carried in from the outside, as if all were momentarily petrified. She was the first to look away, her hands still balled tightly into fists, and a second later Kira mirrored the gesture. His tempestuous eyes fell on Shinn who was still standing dumbstruck in front of them and the younger man felt as if his heart had ceased from beating at the empty, unguarded look on his superior's face.

"Shinn, please leave us for a moment," the General's voice was low but firm.

He nodded dumbly and did as was told, closing the door behind him silently, almost unaware of what he was doing. Donna raised her eyebrows at the frozen expression on his face but he ignored her and slumped onto one of the seats in front of the Head Representative's office, his report dropped carelessly onto another. He was not unfamiliar with what havoc temper could wreak on someone, but this… this was different.

Not temper, he corrected himself numbly. Cagalli had never exploded because of temper anymore since she had reclaimed her office and Kira, in any case, was so much better in holding back his emotions.

It was sadness, loss and desperation.

Shinn felt himself trembling, his sight fogged as if he was lost in a thick blanket of mist. Everything was his fault.

Seconds blended into minutes and minutes into hours as he sat there, staring at the closed door, clenching and unclenching his fists. Sometimes voices were carried out from inside the room and yet never clear enough for him to understand a word of it. Whatever happening beyond that door was not pretty and wasn't it also his fault? Shinn felt numb, tired of the constant guilt nagging inside him like an old, incurable wound kept throbbing and bleeding under his skin.

He wanted it to end.

When the door was finally opened again from the other side, the face which appeared behind the threshold was calm and Kira's voice betrayed nothing unusual as he said, "Please come in, Shinn."

His feet felt like lead when he forced them to move, advancing to the entrance left half-opened. He spared a glance toward his wristwatch and was astonished to find out that no more than thirty minutes had passed since he had left Fllaga in their office. Inside, Cagalli was no longer behind her desk. She was slumped in the couch, elbows propped on her knees, her fingers twisting each other viciously and her cheeks stained with what suspiciously looked like tracks of tears. Kira sat to her right and motioned for him to take a seat for himself too.

"I have decided," Kira spoke quietly and on his left, his sister suppressed a slight quiver. Shinn attempted a little nod, unsure of the outcome of the earlier argument, and focused his eyes at the small patch of dampness stark against the white background of Kira's uniform-clad shoulder.

"Tomorrow morning, I will leave ORB to join the search," the General resumed. "Please come later with Lieutenant General Fllaga to my office at six to receive your instructions. I will leave everything in the hand of you two during my absence."

"Yes, Sir," he replied stiffly, not surprised that once again Cagalli had won the fierce battle but still feeling a little strange. Kira was the more stubborn one between the two when it came to his firmest decisions and Shinn was very sure that what he had seen in the other man's violet eyes previously was one of them.

And then the answer struck him.

It was pride, a point so vital for one as powerful as Kira Yamato, and the General clearly had mastered the art to know where to place it, how to handle it. It had been pride too, Shinn realized miserably, which had made him angry for no apparent reason during these three agonizing days, his pride which couldn't accept that his carelessness had resulted in something so grave and dangerous. He couldn't help but to compare and was forced to swallow another sour gulp of mortification at the blatant result. Kira had his pride under control, carefully using it when necessary and putting it aside when there were more important things to set his sight upon, while Shinn's pride was childish and rather detrimental than developing. It was clear, hard piece of fact.

Was there really that big of a gap between them?

"Be very careful until I return," Kira's voice was gentle as he looked at his sister. "I won't be gone for long. Three days at most."

She returned his obvious display of concern with a small, weak smile, her still-glazed golden eyes brightening momentarily. "Don't worry. Just find him, you idiot brother of mine."

Kira reached for her joined hands and squeezed them. "Thank you."

This was it, Shinn found himself wishing for more strength when the General looked back at him, violet eyes sombre. At last, for the first time in these three days of tormenting hell he recognized faint traces of remorse – and perhaps disappointment – in them and for some reasons, it fuelled his veins with barrels of much-needed strength. He faced his pride, a hideous skyscraper that blinded his sense and dulled his sensibility, and tore it down.

"I will not let you down for the second time," he heard himself vowing solemnly.

"I believe you," Kira smiled at him, a poignant little smile that stung sharp and bitter in his heart, "but what I was about to say is, please return to your home tonight and have some sleep, Shinn. You cannot do your job without rest. Will you do it?"

The question was uttered so softly that Shinn almost broke down to tears.

"Yes, Sir."

It was _his_ mistake. He had to be the last person who gave up.

  
 _**End Chapter 4  
** _


	5. Yzak - Fifteen Years

  
Yzak Jule paced briskly down the long corridor of Vernes, Commander Rosand's medium-sized ship, growing increasingly annoyed at the dreary feeling of helplessness pooling at the pit of his stomach. Arriving as an additional party to help in the search of their chairman, he had just finished a meeting with the commander and now was going to return to his own ship and prepare his own men.

The meeting was, to put it mildly, not to his liking. Bluntly said, it pissed him off to no end and made him want to kick something more than just doors and lockers. He was here because Lacus Clyne had personally asked him to join the search, with the consent of the Supreme Council, and it was an established fact that there was virtually nothing he could deny the beautiful ex-singer mediator. It was natural for him to expect some progress in the investigation and that he only had to act based on the gathered information, covering areas they had not touched yet.

But nothing. Nothing could be done. Commander Rosand only magnanimously pointed out that it was impossible for the chairman to have survived the explosion, looking at the few wreckage and mostly nothing left.

Athrun Zala. Died.

It was the sort of news he would snort and laugh at incredulously because this _was_ Athrun Zala they were talking about and Yzak, hot and burned with pubertal fury, had been seriously wanting that to happen during their younger years and had waited and waited until he was forced to admit resentfully that some people just had the privilege to continue their frustratingly long, unbearably important existence no matter how annoying they were. After going through and surviving that hellish stage, of course he couldn't just accept that his lifetime rival was, finally, dead.

"Yzak!"

He whipped around at the familiar voice and found himself looking at an even more familiar dark-skinned face. Dearka Elsman, dressed in full pilot suit and carrying a helm, came floating down the corridor toward him with a huge grin on his face and Yzak suddenly realized that a long time indeed had passed. It had been probably two years since he had last seen his former aide in Martius, both of them busy at their own station and duties since separated. He hadn't been able to raise any argument when the Chairman of National Defense Committee had decided that putting the two best friends in the same squad had been a most deplorable mistake and transferred Dearka to another unit. After all, they had – _once again_ – gone against PLANT by helping Eternal and Archangel and it had been already merciful enough of the chairman not to fire them immediately.

"I heard you're coming," Dearka patted his shoulders warmly, his grin exactly the same as Yzak remembered. "Talked to the commander yet?"

"He's an absolute, mother-fucking asshole," he declared, remembering the older officer and the conversation they had held making his earlier irritation flared once more.

"Somehow I knew that would come from you," Dearka's grin widened and he ran a hand through his short blonde hair, sighing loudly. "But I know what you mean. He often frustrates me too. Giving up practically from the beginning, drawing conclusions too fast, discouraging the crews with total nonsense. I'll be damned if the only reason he's still remaining here isn't for an outward appearance." He paused, and for a moment, a fierce expression resided on his dark face as he stated, "We cannot just give up like that."

The uncomfortable feeling returned and Yzak tried to ignore it with all his might. Not the time to consider it yet, he reminded himself sternly, and forced himself to say instead, "I heard about your father. Congratulations."

"It's nothing he really wanted," Dearka shrugged his shoulders as if he couldn't care less. "But it was a real chaos in Februarius after those council members's death, so I don't think he had any choice."

Yzak felt his mood rapidly declining at the mentioning of the murder. "Nothing has come up with the investigation," he muttered crossly.

Dearka looked severely astonished. "You're kidding. Have we become that incompetent?"

"I don't know the exact details but apparently we can't find any trace of any of the murderers," Yzak said, feeling himself growing sarcastic with each word uttered. "It's understandable if we're talking about one crime scene, but three? How can anyone possibly accept that? Letting Hayes handle this is obviously a mistake."

"Well, he's the chairman of the National Security Committee. That's his job," his friend reminded mildly, before a moment later adding with a knowing smirk, "And you shouldn't be too prejudiced despite your issues with him. He's a good man."

A patented death glare was sent to Dearka's way. "I do _not_ have issues with him."

"Frankly, I find that hard to believe, Commander Jule," the dark-skinned man pointed out, obviously discovering too much fun in bringing up the particular subject. "What's this bizarre incident I heard in Maius about you going ballistic at him?"

"It was a debate!" Yzak heard his own voice rising angrily. "I have my own opinion, but he was forcing his points!"

"Which, I also heard, were extremely valid and reasonable," Dearka countered again with the greatest ease. There was an amused glint in his eyes and Yzak had a hard time deciding which he hated the most right now, the grin on that smug face or the day he had first decided to call the other man a 'friend'. He was perfectly aware that he had a short fuse, but he also remembered that Dearka possessed a remarkable talent to obliterate what little length remaining of aforementioned fuse and never seemed to mind exercising said talent whenever he felt like it. _Damn him._

"Admit it," to Yzak's utmost misery, the teasing continued with no end in sight. "You don't like him because he always sides with Athrun."

"I do not _not_ like him because of something that stupid! It was–!"

Dearka held up a hand and for some reasons Yzak couldn't identify no matter how desperate, the flow of words ceased immediately from his mouth. "Point taken, Sir," he said far too cheerfully, "let's move on to the next subject."

For the first time in four years, Yzak couldn't find a decent rejoinder. He opened and closed his mouth for several times, itching to throw a response befitting the notoriety of his temper but always failing every time because finally, his partner in quarrel could hold a proper debate with him and the familiarity of the situation hit him so hard that he was overwhelmed. Maybe he did miss Dearka in a way. His old friend knew how to cope up with his irritable personality, an art unfortunately none of his current subordinates had mastered yet, and to have his old friend back there…it just relieved him immensely.

Of course Dearka's presence would be much better appreciated if Yzak didn't end up in the losing side with such frustrating regularity. This time was no different. In the end, he had to content himself with glaring and snarling at a few other ship crews who had taken wind of the argument and now were looking at the scene with mounting interest.

"Ignore them," Dearka touched his shoulder and signaled for Yzak to follow him. They glided down the corridor and made a turn to a deserted one and once more Dearka opened a conversation. "So, the there's no new information from the investigation team?"

"You can say that," Yzak's answer was a grumble. "And the team sent to ORB to investigate about the shuttle isn't doing any better either. ORB military is still looking for the man – that Gerald Patti – but nothing comes up so far."

"That's bad."

Yzak gave him _a_ look.

Dearka shot him a small grin. "Kira is coming here, have you heard?"

"Yes. Not totally unexpected given the circumstances though," he shrugged his shoulders, trying to keep his frown at bay. For some reasons, it always made him uncomfortable to think about the relationship between Athrun and his boyhood friend. He mentally shook the thought off and leapt to another subject. "So you're still continuing the search?"

There was a look torn somewhere between annoyed, depressed and amused flitting across Dearka's face. "Rosand really doesn't give a damn anymore, so yeah, I'm practically the one who gets things moving around here."

Yzak found himself frowning at the answer. "The Council hasn't withdrew their order."

"True, but like I said, he doesn't give a damn. He's thoroughly convinced that we're only wasting time and money doing this."

Another fuse was burning dangerously close to its end and Yzak felt his body shaking slightly, cold rage trickling into his veins, coating every fiber. "Athrun is _not_ dead," he stated.

Dearka only gave him a pointed look. "Why don't you try to tell that to Rosand?"

The last segment of the fuse was reduced to ashes and searing hotness exploded in Yzak's chest. "What the hell do you think I was doing in his office?" his voice was quick to ascend to a full-scale shout, his hand so close to grabbing Dearka and shoved him to the hard cold glass behind him. "I told him that nothing was confirmed yet and the only thing he did was showing me the way to the door!"

"Now you know how I feel in the last four years," Dearka replied wryly and for the second time that day, Yzak was rendered incapable to form any retort. It wasn't as if _that_ was entirely his fault, although he had to admit that he was the one who had given the order for Dearka to help Eternal on that day three years ago. He had dragged his friend into the mess, so probably it was his fault after all. _But,_ he found himself stomping on the guilt viciously, Dearka was not the only one suffering from loss of companion and they both knew it.

Yzak quickly terminated the thought at that point. He wasn't admitting that. There was simply no way in hell he would admit that.

"At least we've agreed that he's an ass," Dearka spoke again, another grin already brightening his face. "Anyway, I got the details ready down in the hangar in case you're interested. And then maybe we can start working. How many men and mobile suits you have on board?"

"Four GINN, five Zaku and my own Sierra Antares," Yzak answered swiftly, only too relieved to escape from the previous topic.

Dearka nodded. "That will certainly be a big help. We have only covered half of the designated area, which is awfully large because the explosion is big enough to send some rubble out of gravity's reach. And of course there is always the debris belt if we fail to find anything in the area." He paused and heaved a deep sigh, looking slightly more troubled. "Another thing is, we don't really know what we are searching. It can be a life pod, or maybe a body in a suit, or the smallest evidence which might suggest anything."

Yzak narrowed his eyes and grasped Dearka's shoulder, his voice coming out harsh and cold. "He is not dead."

A long, pregnant silence reigned until they arrived at the elevator, and then the dark-skinned man shrugged. "Okay."

The journey down proceeded in an even thicker silence. Yzak felt an uncomfortable knot tightening in his stomach every time he drew breath, the silence becoming louder with each passing second. Once he stole a look at his old friend who was staring at the numbered buttons on the side panel stonily, and his insides churned. Maybe he was the only soul in the world who still believed that the worst had not arrived.

The commander cursed inwardly. He didn't know what happened to himself. This incident happening to Athrun seemed to have thrown off his perfectly balanced world in one swift motion and the mere thought of it sent him flying off the handle and pummeling everyone on his way.

It was one of those times when he wished he didn't hate Athrun Zala that much.

"Is it really bad?" he finally forced himself to ask.

Without diverting his eyes, the dry answer fell from Dearka's mouth. "If that means I'm growing pessimistic with each minute, then yes." Yzak opened his mouth, all too ready to produce a vicious argument when the other man hastily cut in first. "Hey, you wanted me to be honest and so I did. If we can't find anything in three or four more days, I honestly think we should withdraw."

"Try telling that to Yamato," he growled, unconsciously coiling his hands into rigid fists.

A crooked grin made an appearance on Dearka's face as the door slid open to their destination. "I still want to keep my head, thank you."

When they stepped out from the elevator, Yzak realized that Vernes was a smaller ship than his own Voltaire. In front of him, four mobile suit compartments stood facing another four, most of them uninhabited at the moment. There were a few mechanics around, inserting data or working on the lone mobile suit which seemed to have taken damage from colliding with an asteroid. It was not exactly the picture Yzak was expecting to see of a busy search party and he had a distinct feeling that his friend knew what he was thinking.

"The shuttle for the chairman usually has a mobile suit right?" he spoke quickly to chase off the growing discomfort.

"It had one," Dearka nodded, guiding him to a cluster of workstations just before the columns of compartments. "I just can't understand that if someone does survive by taking the mobile suit, why haven't we heard anything yet?"

"Broken engine or booster, or perhaps the navigation system is down, the distress signal screwed. There are tons of reasons," the young commander answered with a frown.

Something appeared on Dearka's face and it looked suspiciously so much like sympathy that Yzak had to force both of his hands to stay put, not crushing the high, protruding nose on said face. "I think you are forgetting something, my dear Yzak," he said, concern lining every word. "The supply of oxygen. Do you think one container will last a week?"

Perhaps he had been secretly dreading about that too, but something else held Yzak back from admitting it. He pretended that he didn't hear the obvious suggestion in his friend's levelheaded reasoning and fixed his eyes on the screen which displayed a detailed chart of the area instead, not responding. This time, it was Dearka who reached for his shoulder, the warm weight trying to be gentle and comforting. "Look," he started, his voice patient, almost coaxing, "I know what Athrun means to you–"

"He means nothing to me!" Yzak snapped, shaking the hand off his shoulder. "Nothing! It's just that…he can't be dead now!"

Dearka looked at him for a long moment but didn't say a word. Yzak was terrified; it was starting to be difficult not to admit it. He remembered that day almost four years ago when Athrun had returned to PLANT, unsure but desperately wanting to do something for their crumbling peace, no longer able to hide himself under the disguise of a simple bodyguard. He often wondered if things would be different, that Athrun would still be somewhere here with his stuck up air and grace, if he didn't ask the other man to return and fight with him and Dearka. Maybe his words didn't actually mean so much for the asshole but sometimes, sometimes Yzak couldn't help but to wonder.

It was killing him because he didn't know if they meant something or not. And if Athrun didn't return…

"This is Kira Yamato with Freedom requesting permission to land in Vernes," a familiar voice echoed in the area, shaking him out of his trance. "Control room, do you copy?"

Yzak dashed to the control room above the hangar, propelling himself forward several times by pushing the rail, and stormed in. There were two operators on duty, both sporting a bewildered look on their faces at the incoming message and visibly relieved at his entrance.

"Give the permission," he demanded briskly.

The operator responsible looked uncertain, recognizing the white-haired commander but apparently not yet receiving any direct order from her superior. "But the commander–"

"Your commander _knows_ ," he hissed. "Give the permission."

"But–"

Perhaps it was the slow, painful death his smoldering eyes were promising – or the fact that Dearka came in a moment after he made clear of his threat – because the operator shrank back and murmured, "Yes, Sir."

Her clear, clipping voice echoed in the room, carried through the open communication line to the cockpit of Freedom and the hangar below. Yzak watched in silence as the legendary mobile suit performed a smooth landing and waited for a moment before going out to greet the guest, Dearka following closely behind. A number of fully-suited mechanics surrounded the white-blue Gundam, looking intrigued but quite obviously also intimidated. They quickly dispersed and made way for Yzak when he approached.

"He won't be able to use Freedom anymore with the new neutron-jammer, right?" he heard himself asking as he stared at the massive, imposing presence in front of him.

"Seeing that it's _him_ who designs it, I won't place too much bet on it." Dearka's answer was light, unbothered.

Yzak frowned. "We cannot convince the other nations if we don't start with ourselves, surely he realizes that."

His friend waved desperately toward Freedom's cockpit which was opening with a loud hiss. "Ask the man, not me," he stated.

The pilot began his descend and for some reasons, Yzak felt the knot in his stomach tightening. Ridiculous, he snapped at himself. Nothing to be afraid of. If anything, this mess was ORB's fault to begin with.

But when Kira took of his helmet and the placid, handsome face came into light, the uncomfortable feeling came rushing back with an even greater force. Yzak gritted his teeth, far from amused by his own trepidation and feeling rather absurd.

"Commander Jule, Dearka," the ORB general greeted them politely, making a salute as he did so.

The white-uniformed officer narrowed his eyes. "You 'Commander Jule' me once more and I'll haul your ass back to ORB."

"Yzak," the slightest hint of amusement tinted the somber face as Kira corrected the address. The discomfort lessened a bit, but then the newly-arrived general said again, his formality returning, "Thank you for agreeing to our change of plan in such short notice."

"Frankly speaking, my superior couldn't care less if you were to bring half of your army up here and turn the place upside down," Dearka said with a chuckle. "So by all means, welcome aboard, General Yamato."

The little smile which had finally settled on Kira's face made Yzak want to hit something. Preferably himself. One moment from the past sprang to life in his mind, when he finally got the chance to sit down and talk with the pilot he had chased across heaven and earth, and learned several facts that would mortify him forever. A civilian shuttle, he had said quietly, and when Yzak had fallen silent, too tongue-tied, too revolted to speak, Kira had given him that melancholy smile which had been burned into the back of his mind until now.

"I think it's better if I meet your commander first," the general spoke up again, sounding far too collected. Any trace of hesitance, or desperation, or blind fury, any reminder to the broken voice which had shouted at and pleaded with him in the first war no longer existing.

"Right," Dearka nodded and gestured toward the door. "This way, General."

Kira mumbled a gratitude and followed Dearka, passing another group of mesmerized onlookers. Yzak fell into step beside him, not quite knowing what to say, and was immensely relieved when his companion did not attempt any conversation either. The pilot of Freedom had always been quiet and ever since their first proper meeting, Yzak had received the impression that the other man possessed a rather modest nature. It had developed throughout the years and finally turned into what

Dearka preferred to call the ideal embodiment of self-possession. When he had met Kira again after the second war, he found himself wondering what the hell had happened.

But Yzak couldn't say that he was surprised.

He didn't particularly like Kira Yamato, but it was as close as impossible not to respect him in the strong presence of his majestic calmness. The same could be said about his boyfriend although it was charm more than anything else in Athrun's case – and perhaps the vast difference in the level of Yzak's animosity toward each character. Therefore, it hardly made any sense that he was so distraught by this incident. Probably he had known Athrun for six years, but still.

Yzak stole a glance to his left and wondered if beneath that expressionless face raged a storm out of fifteen years of love and friendship. He couldn't imagine what he would do if Dearka were in Athrun's place and he occupied Kira's.

Their silent journey ended in front of Rosand's office. Dearka pressed the intercom button and spoke to the appliance, "Commander, General Yamato has arrived."

The reply took only a moment to arrive. "Yes, please come in."

Inside, Commander Rosand rose from his seat as they filed in, a wary look flitting across his plump face before a strained smile taking over. "A pleasure to meet you, General," he welcomed and extended his hand toward Kira. "Is your flight okay?"

Yzak rolled his eyes. He couldn't think a more condescending greeting to the pilot of a mobile suit which had practically saved the world twice from utter destruction. Kira, on the other hand, didn't look bothered in the slightest. "Yes, Sir, thank you," he answered with equal formality, accepting the offered hand. "I will be intruding your hospitality for a few days."

"No, of course not," Rosand attempted a grin which almost made Yzak wince. "Actually it is an honor to have you with us here."

Kira returned the smile politely. "If you do not mind, I will get to work immediately."

"Certainly. You can ask Elsman here everything," the commander motioned toward Dearka who indistinctly raised his eyebrows at Yzak. "Just do not expect too much, General."

The words seemed to set everything in motion. Yzak watched as the thick mask on Kira's face cracked and signs of internal storm seeping out, revealing what looked like cold anger and disappointment. There were rigid lines marring his cool countenance, his lips diminishing into the faintest of brush stroke, thin but stiff, his violet eyes burning holes into Rosand's own, and at that moment, Yzak saw what fifteen years of love and friendships could do to someone.

"We should not lose a battle we haven't fought yet, Commander," his voice sounded cold and even Rosand cringed at the sound of it. No one dared to produce the slightest movement until Kira made a small bow and saluted. "Excuse me."

It probably wasn't appropriate, but Yzak felt like he wanted to smirk at Rosand. The son of a bitch deserved a good punch, he gloated and shared a triumphant look with Dearka.

And when twelve hours later Freedom came back with a life pod safely cradled in its arms, Yzak could not stop smirking at the incredulous look on Commander Rosand's face.

  
 _**End Chapter 5  
** _


	6. Meyrin - The Prayer

  
Darkness was beautiful.

She had spent days in there, staring at the constellations of stars strewn into the black silk canvas, listening to hope slowly but steadily shrinking in her heart. Life was all she could fight for but it seemed so far, out of reach right now as she waited silently, cheeks damp with dried tears, throat sore and dry from too much shouting and crying. She had no idea how much time had passed and gradually, it didn't seem important anymore.

Meyrin smiled. If only she could see him for one last time. He had asked her to come with him, and at that one moment, she couldn't have been happier.

Her eyelids were growing heavy and when the darkness finally reached out its warm, almost soothing hands, she embraced them wholeheartedly. No more fear. No more waiting and hoping in vain. She would be free at last.

But something did not let go of her. Something, unconsciousness perhaps, kept her in this side of the world and when she gained a little control of her body again, the darkness began to disperse.

When she opened her eyes, dizzy and unexplainably tired, Meyrin wanted to cry.

"Hello, how are you feeling?"

The voice startled her and she tried to focus her bleary gaze to the source at her left, being – for one reason or other –powerless to do something as simple as turning her head to another direction. A young woman dressed in pale green gazed down at her, a kind smile painted on her concerned face. Meyrin opened her mouth, questions and trepidation already storming her cloudy mind, but was astonished when she found out that no sound left her throat despite her hard effort.

She couldn't talk.

"Don't exert yourself," the woman said again, more gently as if sensing her multiplying fear. "Just lie down and try to relax."

Unable to do the otherwise, Meyrin obeyed and concentrated on conquering her excessive inertia. It wasn't natural, but her lethargic mind couldn't seem to process anything beyond that at its current speed. Slowly, she set an observation to her environment, feeling vaguely familiar with the low ceiling, the compressed silence and the sharp smell of antiseptic. She knew this place.

The realization dawned on her a moment later and her body trembled slightly under the magnitude of the revelation.

She was still alive.

Meyrin took in her surrounding once more to make sure and was convinced. She was lying on a patient bed, an IV attached to her left wrist, hanging loose from a dripping container. The white sheet felt soft under her body but she couldn't move and her gaze fell to the other woman who was speaking in a low voice to the phone on a desk at the corner of the room. It took her another three seconds to finally recognize the green attire as ZAFT official medic's uniform. This must be an infirmary, Meyrin concluded though she had no idea how and why she was there right now.

Momentarily calmed, she closed her eyes once more, trying to subdue the headache which had decided to attack once she had finished the complex procedure of making a conclusion. Everything was fine for now and she had survived the explosion.

_The explosion._

The word seized her temporary relief, macerating it into millions of tiny pieces, and one second later she had found herself sitting on the bed, clutching her abdomen with force she hadn't possessed until a moment ago. Her entire body protested simultaneously but the pain felt far, registered only to the back of her mind as the front lines were overcome with memories and fear. She looked around blindly, trying to pronounce _his_ name, to ask what became of him, but her vocal chord was still unwilling to cooperate.

Abandoning her conversation in the phone, the medical officer rushed to her side and put an arm around her trembling shoulders to support her, murmuring soothingly, "Relax, don't worry. You're safe here."

"No…" her voice came out thin and raspy and she was coughing violently almost immediately after. The medic massaged her back slowly, trying to ease the pain.

"Don't worry," she repeated with a calm voice. "Everything is alright. You are on board of Vernes, Miss Hawke, Commander Wilhelm Rosand' ship. You will be fine."

"Ath…" Meyrin managed to start the word but couldn't finish it, overwhelmed by another coughing fit. She grabbed the other woman's arm and tried desperately to speak once more. "The…chairman…"

A dark look settled on the medical officer's face and she pushed her down gently but firmly before walking over to the desk, retrieving a glass of water. "Here, please have some water first," she helped her to sit up and held the glass in front of her dry lips. "Drink it slowly."

Heavy with panic and anxiety, Meyrin wanted to refuse at first, but knew that nurses had their way with a sick patient and they would not be disobeyed at all costs. The fastest way to gain the answers she wanted was to do what the other woman asked her. She parted her lips slightly, the cold edge of the glass touching them like a demanding company, and swallowed. She felt lukewarm water passing her parched throat and her cold, empty stomach instantly rebelled at the sudden invasion. Meyrin closed her eyes, desperately fighting the urge to vomit the liquid back. She should have expected that. Not having a drop of water for god-knows-how-long could do practically anything to anybody.

After the wave of nausea had passed, she looked up once more and caught the young medic's eyes, her voice sounding stronger this time. "The chairman?"

"I am really not at liberty to say," she answered with obvious reluctance. "But Commander Jule is coming down to see you. It will be better if you direct your questions to him."

 _Commander Jule?_ Meyrin felt the upcoming of another headache as she tried to make the head and tails of the information. Vernes was Commander Rosand's ship and she seemed to remember that Commander Yzak Jule had another ship under his command, which meant it was _not_ Vernes. She shook her head to clear the jumbled thoughts. But the medic clearly mentioned Commander Jule. It didn't make too much sense.

So, what the hell was happening?

The door to the infirmary opened with a low hiss, followed by a trot of brisk footsteps and an even brisker voice asking, almost demanding, "She is awake?"

Meyrin leveled her eyes to the newcomers, focusing to the figure leading the small party, and immediately recognized the pale, white-haired officer. She hadn't misheard; it was undoubtedly Yzak Jule. After finishing the identification, she let her sight gravitated to her next visitor, a dark-skinned man behind the young commander. Dearka Elsman, she finally remembered after much difficulty and wondered again what he was doing here. Unable to find an answer, she ignored it and looked at the last figure behind them.

_Kira Yamato._

The air left her in a strangled gasp and Meyrin slumped back to the bed, suddenly aware of the excruciating pain settling all over her body. Whimpering and moaning in pain, she was still aware of the sound of footsteps rushing to her bedside, as if she was trying to block the throbbing pain by desperately clinging to whatever external input her other senses could accept. Someone touched her and she let out another pained gasp, the contact registering to her overloaded brain more like fire licking her skin. It seemed like an eternity later when she indistinctly heard the medic's anxious voice. "Sir, maybe it is not the right time to question her–"

"We need to know what happen!" Another voice vehemently shouted.

"But, Sir–"

"I'm alright," she forced herself to speak weakly and reached out to have their attention, oblivious to the tremor running in the length of her arm. Her fingers clutched the very first thing they encountered as if it was the ultimate treasure in the world, desperately holding to it as pairs of eyes turned to her frail form. She had to tell them.

Meyrin felt another hand gently wrapped itself around hers and found a pair of calming violet eyes gazing down at her. "There is no need to hurry," Kira spoke softly and emphasized his words by squeezing her hand.

Meyrin fought to calm herself, trying all her might to pacify the tempest she discovered raging in her heart at his mellow voice. She looked deeply into his eyes and whispered, "Is he…not found yet?"

Her words seemed to pick up Commander Jule's interest real fast. "He's alive then?" the question was asked abruptly.

It was not a question she could answer right now. Meyrin pressed the side of Kira's arm and said weakly, "Please help me sit up."

The simple request immediately put the medical officer in motion. "Miss Hawke, I do not think your condition–"

"Please," she pleaded once more, trying to make the other woman _see_ that there just were things far more important for her than her ordinary trifling life, let alone a little pain. The medic looked uncertain for a moment but then decided that the silent stares she had been receiving were more than she could handle and sullenly gave her approval with a nod.

Kira quickly stepped forward to help her but another arm had already wound around her shoulders gently. "Let me," Dearka Elsman nodded quietly to the ORB General. "You speak to her."

The dark-skinned man was careful in helping her but the dull throbbing sensation still stabbed her body at some places as she sat up, guided and supported by his strong arms. Meyrin fended off another wave of headache at the sudden change of position and closed her eyes for a few minutes, gathering her thought and sorting through her jumbled memory. The three men waited for her patiently and did not make the slightest sound until she looked up, already trembling slightly with the weight of what she was about to say.

"He left," she choked.

"…and contact each department to let them know about the changes. After that, make sure every council member is already aware of this incident and that they are required at Aprilius for a meeting tomorrow morning. Arrange a schedule, perhaps it will be better after nine o'clock. And remind me to contact Canavar about the extraterrestrial agreement."

Meyrin wrote the instructions down quickly, not missing a scrap of information as his solemn voice echoed in the vast shuttle cabin, trying to drown the roar of engine all around them. The pen quivered between her fingers and she steadied it, determined to overpower the intense pull of gravity as she felt the shuttle trying to fight the same force. It took her a while to notice that the steady voice from her right had ceased and she looked up in expectation, finding Athrun staring at her with a pair of apologetic eyes.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize–"

"Sir, you are facing a situation which urgency far exceeds my trifling difficulty to write under the pressure of earth's gravity," she said sternly, knowing very well what the word 'concentration' meant for the Chairman of PLANT from continuously standing by his side and watching him working himself to the most extreme ends had it been necessary. This was a dire hour and she couldn't help but to feel like doing everything within her power to help. "Is there anything else, Sir?" she added still with the same firmness.

"No," an affectionate smile passed across his face. "Thank you, Meyrin."

That's it. _That_ smile.

Meyrin tried to chase off the desperation and returned the smile in kind. Being his secretary, there were things and facts about him she couldn't help but to notice. Regrettably, not all of them were to her liking.

She still remembered the night. It was after a particularly busy day, concluded with a grand dinner party for the visiting-in-business delegation from ORB. Everyone had returned to their room full and contented and she had been only making her usual round in the chairman's office to ensure that everything was set for the next day when she noticed a file he had to read before tomorrow morning's meeting left unopened on his desk. There was no other choice. She had to bring the file to the residence. It was not far and she could not say that she minded in the slightest.

Meyrin knew that she was one of the closest persons to him, as she had always wanted. It was downright ironic to realize later what the closeness had privileged her to know.

The door was not shut tight and it was still dark inside, only moonlight streaming down from the open window to illuminate two bodies pressed close, moving sometimes erratically against each other. Her right hand – the empty one – flew to her mouth as the other crushed the file she supposed to deliver, her eyes not leaving the dark forms she no longer had any doubt who. Everything was silent except for the immense sorrow flooding her chest until she heard a sigh, a name, uttered by a rough, breathless voice she had dreamt of whispering her name lovingly.

 _His_ voice.

The name jolted her back to awareness and she walked away quickly, the voice ringing in her ears like a curse never to end. It was foolish to harbor a hope _but_ , Meyrin ignored the butler as she rushed through the front door, her eyes hazy and hot with tears, _but_ she had hoped anyway. He had never seemed genuinely interested in anyone and she had hoped, hoped in secret that his kind eyes and his smile for her meant something more.

Oh, how stupid she had been. She should have been able to see it.

 _Kira._ His best friend.

Obviously much more than that.

After the shock had worn off, there was hate, cruel and intense, and she cried her heart out alone in her room, loathing the world and one man in particular and pitying herself to sleep. When the morning finally arrived, her mind had cleared and she once more recognized in herself a sensible girl who had always loved Athrun Zala, the pilot and the chairman, unconditionally. It should change, Meyrin knew, but at the end of the day, looking at his smile and listening to his hearty laugh in the company of his best friend, she was content to have her heart sealed and the memory treasured. Someone else knew much better how to take care of him and if it made him happy…

Everything was fine for her.

On the next day, she found herself already giving Kira one of her most sincere smiles. There was pain still, and more than a little jealousy – and probably he did know how she felt because sometimes there was something in his violet eyes that shied her and made her look away – but Meyrin knew that she wouldn't fall into the same chasm again. She even went as far as making sure that no one would enter the chairman's room or office without so much as a knock _and_ a permission to enter whatever the circumstances.

Unconditionally. She took pride in that.

Her recollection was abruptly ended when all of a sudden the air around her felt heavier, as if the walls around her were closing in. She glanced to her side and discovered that Athrun had already sported a frown on his face, his eyes fixed to the red light flashing at the front. Her heart raced faster as accidents she had read in newspapers began to play over in her mind like a blurred slide of words and pictures, and she held the arm of her seat tighter.

An officer appeared at the door leading to the cockpit and approached them, each of his steps visibly an effort as he still tried to walk properly despite the intense pulling force. He saluted briefly to the chairman and said, "Sir, there is a malfunction in one of the engines. It may be nothing, but the captain asks you to enter the GINN."

Athrun's frown deepened at this information. "Is it that bad?" he inquired.

"Just for precaution, Sir. It is very unlikely that all four engines will go down, but of course this is a terrible mistake in our part. I apologize for the inconvenience."

"Very well." Athrun unfastened his seatbelt and rose, using one hand to steady his body with the back of his seat while offering the other to her. "Come with me, Meyrin."

At that moment, she felt like she was back to four years ago, aboard Minerva, and she saw the same hand, held out to her in the exact same manner. There had been only one second of hesitation and then she had decided to trust everything, including her life, in this young man she had barely known for two months but had adored from the day she first had heard stories of him. She knew little of love, hardly more than the grand passion and restlessness she had sometimes read in those novels her sister had stocked in their shared room, but the fierce beating in her chest must signify something much more than just a mere crush.

Even years after she had found out, there was still nothing which could stop her from loving him.

"Sir, the GINN's cockpit isn't designed for two people. It will be unwise to hazard your safety," the officer voiced his objection, returning her to the present conflict. "Your secretary will be evacuated in a life pod if anything dangerous happens. Please leave everything to us and board the GINN."

The chairman's green eyes darkened but he gravely nodded and reached out to give her arm a light stress. "Don't worry. It will be okay," he said encouragingly.

Unable to produce a sound from her dry throat, Meyrin only nodded in return and he flashed her another smile before disappearing behind the rear door. She remained standing as if rooted to the floor, staring at the door and the red glow next to it. Left alone, dark memories of she and Athrun plunging into the bottomless ocean when Shinn had hunted them down were resurrected in her mind. The angry sound of waves once more raged in front of her ears and the next thing she knew, she had already huddled on the cabin floor, squeezing herself in the gap left between seats, both hands covering her ears tightly.

"Miss Hawke! Are you alright?"

Someone shook her shoulders gently and she looked up with a start, finding the same officer looking down at her with concern. The gravity pull was still strong but there were no longer waves, only the constant hum of machines.

"Yes," Meyrin breathed out shakily and forced some more composure into her voice. "Sorry, I'm– it's okay…just bad memories."

"Are you sure?" he still looked uncertain and she had to show a small smile to convince him. The frown did not disappear from his face but he stood up eventually, helping her to return to her feet, and motioned toward the same door he had disappeared into only moments ago. "Well then, if you are sure, I will take you to the life pod as requested. Just for precaution, of course."

Her feet still felt wobbly under her but Meyrin managed to maneuver herself along the alley and follow the man to the door. Behind it was another cabin with fewer seats than the one she had just left and several devices that reminded her to Minerva. To her right was another door, smaller and obviously locked, and as the officer fumbled with the code on the lock, she glanced toward the only other door at the far side of the cabin and for a moment her mind flew to Athrun and the GINN that protected him.

It was nothing, she comforted herself. One engine malfunctioning was not exactly unheard of, although the fact that she was traveling with the Chairman of PLANT did make the error sound rather astonishing. Perhaps she was just used to extreme security, but then again, she had experienced more than a few attempts to take said chairman's life.

What if this was another of those, she suddenly realized and had to suppress the urge to find Athrun and check if no harm had come to him. It was only ONE engine malfunctioning. She was being unreasonably worried.

"Miss Hawke," the officer's voice was urgent. Meyrin returned her attention to him and looked at the opened pod before her. It was small, probably designed for one person only, and at this realization, another thought rapidly ambushed her.

"What about the others?"

"This is really just for precaution, Ma'am, we are not expecting anything serious," for the first time the officer smiled and she could see the hard lines around his eyes and mouth fading into an evidence what a childhood full of laughter might do to one's face. "And of course," he added, his tone lighter than ever, "also to ease the chairman's worry."

Meyrin repressed a blush and a wince as she recognized what manner of thought lurked behind that smile. A scandal between a powerful man and his secretary was nothing new and yes, perhaps Athrun's gentleness toward her did make eyebrows raised and wheels reeling, but sometimes there were things that went beyond that kind of love.

Trust was one of them.

She stepped in gingerly into the small compartment and was oddly reminded to the ZAKU cockpit which had almost become her eternal coffin. She eyed the lone seat at the center with some apprehension and had just decided to try sitting rather than constantly being smiled at when her body suddenly felt heavier. There were loud sounds following and at the next moment, the shuttle gave a lurch and threw her off balance. The officer quickly locked the life pod's entrance and Meyrin shouted, demanding him to open it and come into the shelter when a blinding flash of fire exploded in front of her eyes.

She could barely repress her scream and it came out like a strangled sob as she noticed that her companion was no longer there. Everything was on fire. There were shouting and instinctively she put herself as far as possible from the window. Thoughts were running about in her head, but Meyrin could only catch one name in the blizzard of words, over and over again.

 _Athrun._ She had to find him, but while she was ransacking her brain to find a way how which wouldn't kill her instantly once she put a feet outside the pod, the compartment moved again and this time, as she saw through the window, it was leaving the shuttle.

The life pod had been ejected.

Meyrin stared in horror at the distancing shuttle, repeatedly shaking her head in futile denial. Smoke had risen from the spreading fire and a broken whisper rose from her throat when the shuttle came almost to a halt.

The next thing she knew was another blinding light and a force that sent her small pod flying. Then everything went black.

Meyrin was trembling all over when she finished her story. She almost didn't hear Elsman's soothing voice trying to calm her, too grieved to turn her eyes away from the frozen look on Kira's face.

"It was a nightmare," she whispered, her voice still ragged and faint.

Kira, who was kneeling next to her bed, took her hands in his and hold them tightly for a long time, all of his feelings eloquent in that one gesture. She looked down and fought another wave of tears, feeling oddly relieved to know that there was someone who shared the same anguish and distress. If only she had insisted to make sure how Athrun had been and gone to the mobile suit compartment.

"He got into the GINN," Commander Jule concluded, half-pondering.

Behind her, Elsman spoke up in a disapproving tone, "But that means–"

"There's a big possibility that he did," the superior cut him sharply, his intense blue eyes glaring at the other man into silence. "It makes sense. At least, the mobile suit has a booster. He can be anywhere right now."

Meyrin nodded. "I thought so too," she said, trying to ignore the dull throbbing in her stomach and the decreasing clarity of her sight. "Then, there is also a big possibility that he is alive, right?"

"Yes," Kira smiled softly at her and gave her hands another press. "Thank you, Meyrin, please rest for now. We will tell you if there is any development."

Meyrin closed her eyes as she felt her upper body lowered to the bed, unable to stare into those gentle eyes much longer. This man was strong, very strong, and she knew that he would find Athrun. She wished she could do something to help but knew that her time had come and gone, and so she only wished them good luck from the bottom of her heart, not wanting to hinder them. One by one they filed out, nodding to the medic officer who had been waiting behind them, impatient to have her patient back.

"Now you have to sleep," she said sternly after injecting a tube of yellow-coloured fluid on her left arm, and arranged the blanket covering her. Meyrin tried to smile but found herself distracted a moment later by raised voices coming from outside the room.

"…so many damn times I've told you! We cannot give up!"

It was Commander Jule's brusque voice. She felt her throat tightening suddenly, fearing what she would hear next when another voice, more composed but no less piercing, answered.

"Yzak, I'm only pointing out–"

"We don't need that shit right now!" the commander was practically shouting now. "He's _alive_!"

It was exactly what she had been dreading of. They were also afraid. Meyrin felt herself shaking as if the temperature in the room had suddenly dropped, because she knew very well, like it was her greatest sin, that in the darkest corner of her heart, she had already been thinking about it.

Athrun might _not_ survive.

"Tell me how that is possible without an ample supply of–"

Elsman suddenly stopped and she heard a low but stern voice speaking. Kira. And then, every sound seemed to cease, only those of her heartbeat, fast and loud and almost painful against her chest, flooding her ears and skinning her nerve. Meyrin barely heard the steady sound of footsteps distancing, tears already springing in her eyes, and she pulled the blanket closer around her, wishing she could shut out the world and hide. Probably it was better for her not to be found and just die because if it meant she could meet Athrun…

She cried, wished and hoped. And prayed.

  
_**End Chapter 6  
** _


	7. Murrue - Absence of Wind

  
Murrue balanced three paper bags of groceries in the cradle of her left arm as she fumbled around for her car key. One of them was already dangerously close to falling when she finally found the key and opened the door quickly. The contents spilled onto the passenger seat and she sighed in dismay at the sight of the mess, wishing she had been more patient and put them down first. It was only half past ten. She had plenty of time.

It all started with a phone call from her husband two days ago.

" _Hon, are you busy on Sunday's morning and afternoon? The whole Sunday, I mean."_

" _This Sunday? No, why?"_

" _I want to invite Cagalli and Shinn to have lunch at our house. What do you think?"_

" _Do you forget that I only can cook passable pasta?"_

" _You cook excellent pasta. And soup. And salad. Anyway, it's better than what they're getting to eat nowadays. You know kids. Eating right isn't on their schedule."_

" _Alright then, I'll make sure they have a decent meal on Sunday."_

" _Thank a lot, love. Ask Rene to come and watch Neo for a while in the morning. I'll tell them to come at one."_

Her husband was right. Despite the fact that they were talking about two of the most influential figures in ORB, both already reaching the reasonable age of early twenties, Murrue had to agree. Someone had to take care of them, especially in this time of needs.

Oh, Shinn wasn't going to like it. Murrue had learned to know the temperamental boy better since he had been working together with Mwu and discovered that her initial opinion of him was not entirely wrong. He was explosive and rather emotional at times, although she had to admit that he knew what he was doing. Military was clearly his field and he was an exceptionally brilliant pilot, which of course were the reasons why the position of a lieutenant general was already his in that young of an age.

But no matter how brilliant, he was only a boy. He was what? Twenty? She still remembered what Kira had almost become five years ago under her leadership and _never_ , never again would she let anyone going through that much without a friend.

The incident involving Athrun took a heavy toll from those close to him and ORB. Murrue recalled her husband not coming home for a few days and when he finally had, the haggard look on his face was enough to break every wife's heart. She also could feel the obvious strain in her own working quarters, the worried faces and edgy voices. There would be another war, was what had been whispered between the cubicles and alleys of Morgenroete, because this was murder, an assassination. No one in their right mind would believe that 'the accident' had been an accident.

Eleven days had passed since the shuttle incident and some were already on the brink of collapsing under the burden. She had watched the 7 o'clock news this morning and had been horrified to see how thin and tired Cagalli had looked close-up. The burden of a whole country, of the peace, on those small shoulders. She berated herself for not thinking about inviting them over sooner. And if Mwu had also gotten the same idea, it must be very bad indeed. Murrue knew that her husband dogmatically believed that Sundays should be family-oriented and the three of them had been content to follow this rule until now. This was different. A hammer of unexpected weight had come crashing down and those youngsters... they simply needed help or they would shatter. She wished Kira were also here and not out there, searching for all they knew might be the dead body of his lover.

Murrue found her head swimming at the thought. Kira was a soldier, an extraordinary one at that, but often she still felt like he was that stubborn child who was forced to keep fighting for the sake of his friends, a boy she had almost broken without realizing. Taking care of him – or his sister – was the least she could do to repay her debt.

She pulled her car into the driveway and parked it next to an old blue wagon. Her house was neither large nor extravagant but it claimed a spot in one of the better environments, owing much to Mwu's distinguished rank and her own no little earnings from being the head of Resources and Development of Morgenroete. During the three years they had resided in the house, Murrue had never heard even one report of burglary or anything of such ill nature. One could expect as much from an almost full-military environment and she demanded nothing less from a place her son would grow up in.

The same little boy emerged from the front door and raced down the short flight of stairs to bump into her legs. Already a tiny replica of his father – sans the flirtatious nature thankfully – he was her pride and joy, especially since knowing that due to his extremely complicated birth, she could never conceive again. But he was enough. She kissed the top of his head as he grinned up and claimed her unoccupied hand, shouting an almost indistinguishable "Mommy's home!" at the top of his lungs even though she had only kissed him goodbye one-and-a-half hour ago.

"There he goes, always loves his mother best," an amused voice said and Murrue smiled to the auburn-haired girl descending the steps.

"Thanks a lot, Rene. Sorry for making you come on Sunday."

"No problem at all, Murrue-san," the girl grinned back before her gaze arrived at the cluster of paper bags crowding the passenger seat. "Let me help you carry those."

She nodded, taking one bag and her purse, and allowed her son guide her into the house.

"A lunch party?" Rene asked again when they were sorting through the groceries and Neo had settled in front of the TV, content in the company of his favorite anime series and a big pint of chocolate ice cream.

"Not exactly a party," Murrue answered and separated the stuff that should go into the refrigerator and those she would need to prepare said party. Now _where are those tomatoes?_ "Just inviting a few friends," she added, refraining from telling the babysitter who actually would come to visit. Her reaction in front of the knowledge that her employer was in a most friendly term with the Head Representative of ORB was not one Murrue needed to repeat at the moment. Rene was a good girl, but she had this thing with celebrities and better not to poke at the _thing_ in this situation.

Rene retrieved the tomatoes for her and asked again, "Sure you won't need me for the afternoon, Murrue-san? My schedule is empty and if you'll be too busy to take care of Neo while there are guests…"

"The guest will like him to be there, I'm certain," Murrue flashed her a smile to assure that the offer wasn't rejected blindly. "But no schedule on Sunday? I'll say that Titus boy has no manner at all. Isn't he dating you?"

She spent the rest of the morning listening to the girl's story of her newest date – Jacques, no longer Titus – and the ultimate disaster that came with him while chopping vegetables, boiling spaghetti and baking the apple pie. She didn't actually mind the company, but if only the girl did _not_ have the flair to knock off things when she went overly excited and flail her hands around like that.

"He wants to enlist to the military and I said I knew one of the higher ranks. Do you think it's a good idea, Murrue-san?"

No, she answered mentally. Military wasn't a place for kids and although this Jacques was said to be already nineteen, a legally mature age, she couldn't banish the picture of a sixteen years old Kira from her mind, wretched, burdened, alone. What was more, Rene described him as short-fused and stubborn and rash, which disturbingly reminded her to a certain lieutenant general and a pair of lifeless ruby eyes she had seen on the day after the shuttle incident. Battlefields and wars weren't for kids; that was the prime reason why she never really liked ZAFT much.

"Well, there is the procedure," at last she said neutrally. "He can enlist of course, but after two years of training, there will be some kind of test and if he is deemed incompetent or not ready yet, he won't be able to join."

Apparently satisfied, Rene started talking again about how cool it was to be able to join and Murrue concentrated in making the salad dressing, reluctant to give the girl a piece of her mind about the cool guys group. She tried her hardest not to think about the reckless Shinn, or the strong Cagalli, or Lacus who was alone in PLANT, or Kira who was fighting his own war.

Rene went home an hour later and Murrue had just finished spoon-feeding her two-years-old son when Mwu and their guests arrived. She rushed to the door and readied a bright smile, nothing short of a good host.

Cagalli was the first face to appear behind her door and Murrue felt her smile widening already at the sight. With her golden eyes and blonde hair, one just had the feeling of blessed by the warm summer sun in the presence of the Head Representative, not to mention when bestowed with a grin like that. Of course all of those would look much better without the lackluster purple attire, which she noticed a moment later and frowned at.

"Working on Sunday, Cagalli?" she eyed the uniform and clucked her tongue in disapproval. "And I thought you were the most powerful woman in the country."

"Well, unfortunately despite the power, my line of duty also demands me to be much less fussy about which are workdays, Murrue-san," the grin widened a notch and Cagalli hugged her warmly. "By the way, is that pasta I smell?"

Smells did wonders. Murrue smiled, already congratulating her husband for his idea, but quickly worked her countenance into a much less pleased expression as she said, marking the obvious change in the younger woman's figure, "A little bird told me that you weren't eating well lately. And I can't say I disagree."

A smile was forced to appear on Cagalli's face. "I have a perfectly valid excuse."

"I doubt that, but you can always try me," she beamed again, easing the uncomfortable atmosphere, and hustled the Head Representative in before settling her gaze on her other guest. ORB Army was always a thing to behold and Shinn, dressed in a full uniform with all insignias and whatnots, would be an epitome of it if only not for the unruly state of his hair and the obvious weariness spoiling his face. She studied the young man up and down with raised eyebrows, remarking, "And Shinn, already feeling slim enough?"

His face suffered a slight abuse of pinkness and he said tightly, "If only your husband didn't always try to bother me at every given occasion, Murrue-san, I'm sure I'd be able to enjoy my meal better."

"Not really mature to blame your horrible personal faults onto others, kid." Mwu followed in behind them and tousled a handful of inky black hair, making his young colleague hiss and snarl.

"Seeing that I'm learning exactly that from a certain workmate of mine, who's fault is that?" Shinn growled venomously.

Despite her secret delight in watching her husband expertly slice and chew the young man's rather nonexistent patience, Murrue pushed them both to the dining room and waved toward the laid-out table. "Find your seat, boys, lunch will be ready in a minute."

They obeyed meekly, followed by a rather amused Cagalli who had not bothered to hide her smile. Neo ran into his father's arms as soon as he saw him, making everyone grin and Murrue had to suppress the sigh which was rising fast in the back of her throat. Their two-years-old son was already missing his father and although no one could afford to be selfish during these demanding times, she often wished that his position was not so important. Cagalli was right. No choosing in which were workdays. That was exactly why Mwu adored his free Sundays very much.

Lunch was a pleasant but mindful affair. While Neo continued to devote himself to the television, they helped themselves to the abundant food, chatting lightly and often praising the proof of Murrue's culinary skill. However, clearly there was an invisible hand steering the conversation carefully off certain subjects and the knowledge somehow prevented every participant on the talk from being completely at ease. But when they arrived on desserts, the tension slowly melted with several laughing remarks Mwu made about a stubborn but foolish subordinate, aided by Shinn with his own vehement opinions.

Sometimes, having a husband who was nearly always in perpetual good mood had its advantages despite being so infuriating at times.

"I know he's older than me but that doesn't justify all those insults he threw," Shinn complained. "Yes I'll admit that he can handle his mobile suit better than most, but still. There should be respect. In ZAFT, this kind of insubordination will be severely punished."

"If you're willing to look closely, almost everyone under your command is older than you," Cagalli remarked dryly. "And of course ZAFT will take that course of action. Almost half of their soldiers are below the legal mature age."

Murrue looked at her in surprise, never knowing that the Head Representative shared the same point of view in spite of her own fairly young age. Next to her, Shinn snorted and raised another argument, "Can't help it if the young is the more talented one. Is it so hard for the old to admit that there is someone better despite being younger?"

"Wait until you're branded as the 'old', kid, and I'll be the one who laughs the hardest when you find yourself envying the younger and fitter ones," her husband said in his most sarcastic tone.

Shinn did not seem thwarted a bit. Instead, a little smirk made its way up to his lips and he pronounced smugly, "If that's the case, for the moment I'll just enjoy you envying me, the younger, fitter and obviously much more skilled one. Just like you said, of course."

Mwu looked up from the last piece of his apple pie, surprise and no little amusement stretched across his face. "Well, look at that. Our boy's gained a quick tongue at last."

Murrue was forced to stifle a chuckle and put up a more reproachful manner. "Mwu, he's a guest."

"I'm merely entertaining him, dear," the husband winked at her. "And I thought you disapprove of kids going to battlefield."

"I do," she sighed, once more filled by wishful thinking.

"But Murrue-san, it's absolutely unfair," Shinn objected, his red eyes alight with impetuousness and discontent. "If they can already think for themselves, why not? It's only a matter of options."

"You were already involved in battles so I won't say anything much," she replied, her voice low yet stern, "but I really hope that no one else will have to know what battlefields look like in such young age just for foolish reasons like it will be cool to join the army. Or that it's brave and heroic and honorable to be driven by your anger and take revenge. If that is what you call thinking for themselves, think again. Carefully."

For the first time in a very long time, Shinn looked abashed. "Yes, Ma'am."

Every sound and motion seemed to cease as every eyes stopped at this unusual sight. Cagalli looked positively awestruck and Mwu laughed as soon as he had recovered from the initial shock, his eyes alight with admiration and affection. "The wonder you works, my love," he said lovingly.

"That is a skill I unquestionably have to learn," Cagalli decided and smirked back when Shinn threw her a particularly nasty glance.

"Okay, okay, no need to rub on it," he muttered, viciously poking into his pie. "I was young and foolish and ZAFT was willing to take me in, so it all happened. Not really their fault though. They were really lacking manpower."

"They still are," Cagalli said again, a thoughtful expression on her face. "And regretfully ZAFT still has not changed that policy. I've tried talking to Athrun–"

It was _the name_. Murrue shuddered as she took a deep, quivering breath and everything around her once more lapsed into silence though from a very different reason. The name felt like a bane, an evil thought forbidden to have voice, or perhaps they had been only pretending until now, until a word broke the spell and effortlessly devastated those carefully-set foundations like a palace built from sand. The strain had never really disappeared from the edges of Cagalli's mouth and Shinn's frown was not provoked by any remark thrown by her or her husband in the first place. Their laughing, chatting, behaving like nothing was wrong...everything was only a charade. They were pretenders, determined but not good enough.

 _Aren't we all,_ she smiled bitterly to herself. But this was not what they needed. She stood up, a smile ready on her face, and looked around, her voice free of any trouble. "Is everyone finished?"

The tension dispersed as quickly as it had been fostered. Not a second after, sounds of plates and forks clinking against each other had returned to fill the silence and awkward smiles were reappearing. Cagalli helped her to gather the dishes and Shinn hastily stuffed the last chunk of pie into his mouth before also rising from his chair.

"Oh no, I'll take care of that," Murrue quickly said and snatched the empty plate from his hand. "Why don't you all go to the living room? I believe there are some new records you may want to hear, Cagalli."

"I'll help you first, Murrue-san," the younger woman's reply was firm and she chose to smile amiably, allowing Cagalli to follow her to the kitchen. A brief sidelong look told her that Shinn had already been herded to the direction of their living room. She smiled to herself, pleased to see him so compliant under her husband's capable hands.

To wash the dishes was probably one of the chores she found somewhat tolerable compared to others related to dust and dirt which she had only too often made acquaintances with during the old years of her active military service. But even this now, when her daily housekeeper had resigned and she had yet to find a substitute, began to feel wearisome. Sometimes Mwu would offer to help but of course she could not let him, drained by his own job and colossal responsibility, to wear himself out further. She loved this man and she knew where her responsibilities lay.

 _Besides, it wasn't so bad,_ she decided after scrubbing the first plate and passing it on to Cagalli's waiting hand. The representative had put her blazer and formal shirt away, leaving only a red sleeveless – which seemed suspiciously familiar – on. She looked younger, Murrue noticed and realized that it was the uniform which had affected her air so much. Even her tone of voice was different now. She listened as Cagalli told her about the cuisines she had tasted in a particular dinner party and their ingredients, first with polite interest and later growing astonishment as the name she mentioned became more and more outlandish. Her face must have shown it because Cagalli suddenly smiled.

"You have no idea how extensive a representative's knowledge of foods and spices has to be when she deals with certain parts of the world," she said, amusement blending with wryness in her voice.

"And here I thought I was speaking to the wrong person," Murrue said in mock relief.

Cagalli watched the foam slipping between her fingers and sighed regretfully. "Sometimes I do wish that I can cook. Do you think you can teach a miserably thick student, Murrue-san?"

"You have to believe when I say that I'm nothing but a barely adequate cook," she answered. "But if you think you can put up with an equally unskilled teacher, we may be able to do something about that."

"Unconfident, are we?"

"Do I have to tell you Mwu's reaction when he ate the result of my first culinary attempt?"

They looked at each other and suddenly burst into giggling fits, sending soapy froth onto shelves, oven, stoves and even hair. It took them a while to realize the mess they had created and once more they gave in to another laughing fest. It felt nice to laugh and it pleased her to see her companion finally missing the shadow of strains from her face. She continued her unfinished chore, silently watching the younger woman diligently drying the cutlery with a white rag, and felt a pang in her heart when she thought of another frown ruining that peaceful countenance. She was only twenty-two and a woman that young was not normally weighed by the thought that every little thing she said and decided might kill someone or destroyed another's happiness. It simply wasn't normal.

Murrue mentally shook her head and drove the thought out of her mind. Cagalli looked relaxed and a second of it was better than nothing. It wasn't like she could change anything only by lamenting.

"Ahh, I really miss this."

Murrue glanced to her right and raised her eyebrows uncertainly. "You miss washing dishes?"

"Not that much actually," her companion smiled, looking marginally embarrassed, "but maybe I do. In a way. I guess it's only been too long since I did anything this…normal."

"You are very welcome to visit anytime you want and help me finish some 'normal' tasks," she declared, trying to cover the upset which was threatening to accentuate her words. Washing dishes. _Oh God._

The smile became wider but somehow also sadder. "If it were up to me, I'd gratefully pay you a visit everyday, Murrue-san."

She stared at the younger woman, for a moment forgetting the stream of cold water which was still pouring out of the water tap. "But it _is_ up to you," she said, frowning and suddenly uncertain.

Cagalli fell silent, her golden eyes focused on the damp rag in her hand. When she looked up and smiled, Murrue felt her heart breaking at the sight.

"Yes, I think you're right, Murrue-san."

But it was not. Murrue realized a moment later but the words were left unheard at the edge of her tongue as she watched the representative picking up her discarded uniform and leaving the kitchen silently. She could almost see the thoughts, the hopes that flashed across Cagalli's mind in that one moment when their eyes locked. Trapped, bound by promises, honor, duty, _love_. And not only her. There were others, young, brave and unable to get themselves out of this tangled mess because they _had to_ be there. Because peace meant so much. Why it had to be them Murrue didn't have the faintest idea. Fate probably, or simply misfortune, and now they couldn't get out.

Strong. They are too strong, so much to the point where they no longer cared what became of themselves.

Feeling completely helpless, she followed the representative out to the living room. The sight that greeted her eyes stopped her in her tracks and she stared, open-mouthed, at – the words apt to describe it perhaps was only – the rumpled pile on the floor.

"What on earth _are_ you boys doing?"

"Defending our child from the abuse of a certain someone, my dear," her husband answered with a none-too-convincing grin, still pinning his red-faced colleague down with his upper arm.

"Neo wouldn't get involved if you didn't drag him in!" Shinn snarled at him as fiercely as he could in that position.

"For goodness sake, behave like mature men for once, lieutenants," Cagalli cut in severely and pulled Neo to her side, salvaging the little boy from his highly injurious male friends.

Mwu straightened up, followed by a very much disgruntled Shinn, and pointed out with a very disappointed tone of voice, "You are no fun now, Cagalli. You used to like to throw yourself on top of Kira and join us in a fight whenever you could."

"If this little fact has plain escaped your mind, Lieutenant General Fllaga, I am already a dignified lady of twenty-two now," she replied dryly, ignoring the incredulous look on Shinn's face at this new piece of information.

He raised his eyebrows and then gave a nonchalant shrug, declaring, "You look every bit as sixteen as you were back then."

The surprised look on Cagalli's face was almost enough to make Murrue want to kiss her husband here and now. And he was right. Minus the heavy blazer, she was no different than the girl the former captain of Archangel remembered plunging herself into the battlefield with big guns and grenades. The girl who made Athrun Zala decide to fight and Kira Yamato want to protect. Sometimes she missed her and yes, the Head Representative of ORB was vital and irreplaceable, but it still felt that they had lost something.

The afternoon whiled away with music playing softly from her husband's excellent stereo set and they conversing lightly about nothing in particular. Murrue let herself being carried away by the sound of Mwu's good-humored accent, Cagalli's soft laughter and Shinn's bizarre turn of logic, for once excusing herself from the job to watch over the situation. She smiled to herself, listening to the pleasant voices all around her, watching Neo who had curled peacefully in Cagalli's arms, oblivious to the world as the young representative repeatedly caressed his light brown mane. She looked at her son and then to Cagalli who was listening to something Shinn said, to the serene expression on her face, and felt a strange sense of peace.

"You should get married."

Stopping in the middle of straightening another strands of hair, Cagalli moved her gaze quickly toward her, looking suddenly alarmed. "I beg your pardon?"

"You should find yourself a good man and get married, Cagalli," she said, noting that the men had stopped speaking and now were listening intently to their conversation, before adding with a smile, "and have many beautiful children."

The initial alarm quickly gave way to a frown. "Whatever it is that leads your thought down that way, Murrue-san, please forget it."

She laughed good-naturedly and gave the other woman an amused look. "I'm serious. Don't you agree, Shinn?"

The young man started, whipping his head up so fast that Murrue had to hide a broadening grin. "Why should I care?" he snapped, glaring at her and Cagalli in turns.

"She's your superior. Can't you be polite for once?" Mwu interjected reproachfully.

Shinn opened his mouth, ready to come back with another angry reply when Cagalli suddenly said, "No, not at this moment. Maybe I am the Head Representative and all, but at least today I don't want to…" she stopped, biting her lips as the expression on her face turned hard, and then smiled tightly, "But I guess that too is impossible."

Murrue tried to swallow the lump which had formed in her throat but only found out that the plans she had formulated in case a wrong turn was made in a conversation had decided to hide in the nooks and crevices of her mind. Cagalli looked down at Neo, her unvoiced apology suspending in the air, leaving the atmosphere once more uneasy and suffocating. Murrue gazed at her, silent and helpless until Mwu's voice penetrated the stillness, sounding contrastably casual, "I have no idea what you're talking about, little princess."

For a moment Cagalli looked astonished, and then unsure, but soon the hard lines around her mouth dissolved into a smile and Murrue felt another urge to kiss her husband. "I'm truly at loss how you can even climb to the lieutenant general's position with the appalling state of your intelligence, Mwu-san," she replied, frivolity returning into her voice.

"Aren't you talking about this boy here?"

"Again!" Shinn pointed an accusing finger to his colleague. "Why do you always have to–"

"Maturity, kid. A shame that you'll never catch up to us," Mwu's eyes twinkled with unrepressed amusement and Murrue had a sudden suspicion that her husband enjoyed this taunting far more than he should.

"Didn't you mean age and wrinkles, old man?" the younger man growled, his voice increasing in volume with each word uttered.

"At least wisdom comes with age and wrinkles."

"That is about as banal as–"

"Keep convincing yourself that immaturity is all great and mighty?" Mwu supplied in helpfully.

Shinn's face rapidly underwent an interesting change of many different colours before it settled on an angry shade of purple. But the explosion didn't some and he only gritted out, "I'm not going to win this, am I?"

Mwu was careful to make his grin look as infuriating as possible. "By all means, ask the audience."

"All right, that's it you two." For the second time, Murrue chose herself to end the brewing argument between the two. She rose from her seat and looked pointedly at Shinn. "Help me to prepare some coffee, Shinn,"

" _Me_?" he looked positively horrified. "Why me?"

She smiled sweetly at him. "Because the audience decides that you lost."

If the look on Shinn's face was not enough to satisfy her, Cagalli's ringing laughter would. _Oh, these kids._

Muttering to himself, Shinn followed her to the kitchen and ended up perplexing himself over many choices of coffee she had stocked. Mwu was fond of coffee and Andy – now the owner of a large plantation himself in Hawaii – often sent them the newest product of his successful experiment. The former ZAFT Commander remained a close friend of her and doted on Neo excessively every time he came to visit ORB either for business or simply pleasure. She had not quite mastered his art of coffee-making yet, but like cooking, she was growing adept in it.

"Thank you for inviting us, Murrue-san," Shinn suddenly said after handing her his pick, face serious and bent down slightly.

Surprised but pleased, she shot him a warm smile. "Don't be so formal, Shinn. It's only sort of getting lonely to spend the weekend with just the three of us, so I thought why not? It isn't that much different, cooking for three or five persons." She paused and then, sewing a thread of hesitation into her voice, added, knowing full well that her companion wouldn't like what was coming. "Why don't you come over again next week? If you're not busy that is."

A dark look flashed across Shinn's face, his lips thinning, but no sarcasm came out to meet her suggestion as she predicted. Instead, he bit his lips and nodded. "I'll appreciate it very much, Murrue-san, thank you."

It was a pleasant surprise. Murrue stared at the young man. Was that maturity which was looking back at her?

"But don't tell your husband I said that."

Probably not that mature. Still. "Not a word," she vowed, hiding a grin, "but only if I may give you an advice."

He looked at her gloomily, fully expecting the bitter taste of medicine, and she pulled her face a little straighter, her voice a little firmer as she said, "You have done a good job looking after her, but do look after yourself too. It only serves to make her worried if you keep losing weight like this. Or do you want me to make you lunch everyday and send them to your office?"

Again, she had expected an offense and again, she was nicely let down. The rebellious look remained on Shinn's face for a moment but an entirely something else obviously got the better of it and soon self-control had taken over. "No, thank you, Ma'am," his answer was meek. "It's just... sometimes I don't have any appetite at all. But I do eat," he added hastily.

The reply left Murrue silent and thoughtful. In the end, she heaved a long-suffering sigh. "We all have our own problems, don't we?" she murmured, looking at her coffeemaker as the little device worked on the black concoction. "And the way to deal with them too, I suppose."

Shinn gave him a hint of a smile. "Don't worry, Murrue-san. We're stronger than we look."

She chuckled and waved a knowing hand. "I know, I know. I've seen the proof with my own eyes a thousand times. A bunch of intolerably difficult and stubborn kids." She closed her eyes, allowing the memory to wash over her and the old pictures to roam in her head for a long moment, stirring up her melancholy mood once she looked at the young man again. His crimson eyes were steady holding her gaze, as if he could read what was on her mind, and she couldn't help but to murmur, "But sometimes I just hope for a more peaceful era."

"Maybe everyone does." Shinn averted his eyes, his tone of voice growing cool and distant. "We can't run away all the same."

 _True_. Murrue felt her throat tightening and didn't say anything in return, which seemed to discourage her companion to say anything further himself. Moving away, she reached for a large platter from the shelf for some cookies, letting Shinn to deal with the beverage. At complete loss for words. There was no other phrase for it. It seemed that her skill in handling the youngsters had not improved with years, she thought wistfully, recalling the failure she had done once with Kira.

When they returned to the living room, another force clenched her stomach from the inside. The television was on and Murrue only needed to see the look on her husband's face to tell that there was something wrong. The face of Eileen Canaver stared back at her from the television when she glanced at it and the force intensified as she read the subtitle of the news.

_PLANT will elect a temporary chairman._

She carefully inhaled a deep breath before turning to look at Cagalli who had worn a blank mask, her face devoid of any emotion.

"I'm afraid I have to go back to the office immediately," the Head Representative announced.

"Yes, of course," her response was quick as she set the tray on her hand on a side table, all thoughts of a pleasant evening fleeing from her mind. The news came as a shock. Not unexpected, but still.

Shinn, already divesting himself of the tray laden with cups of coffee, stepped forward and declared, "I'll escort her back."

Cagalli frowned at him. "Shinn, there is no need to–"

"I _will_ escort you."

There was a small flash of tension rising between the two and Cagalli seemed more than ready to argue when suddenly a resigned look settled across her face. Her eyes flickered back to the television for a second and she shrugged, reaching for her neatly folded blazer on the arm of her sofa where Neo was still slumbering peacefully in.

They reached the front door without any further conversation, the silence unsettling but unbreakable. It was when the Head Representative had found herself slipping back into her shoes when Murrue finally broke the silence, feeling more anxious than her voice let on. "Please be careful, Cagalli. And don't forget to have something to eat tonight."

"I will. Thank you for everything, Murrue-san, Mwu-san," she replied, her smile small but sincere. "And please tell Neo that I'll bring the chocolate cake next time."

"You don't have to worry about it. Come and visit us whenever you feel like it."

"I'll make sure to do just that," Cagalli tried to sound cheerful but Murrue couldn't say that she did a very good job in covering the obvious edginess in her voice.

Not only duty, she found herself reflecting as her guests disappeared into the car which was waiting just beyond her small garden. Love. It was love which made her trying to be so strong. And it destroyed her. No, _them_. They all loved peace, loved the people whom they desperately wanted to protect and she couldn't help but to wish once more that they had been born into a different age.

"Don't let it bother you," her husband's voice was gentle, comforting, as much as the hand which had lain on her shoulder.

"I won't," she smiled at him, grateful for the umpteenth time that she had fallen in love with this man, and then added contemplatively, "He is very protective of her."

"You don't think…?"

Murrue raised her eyebrows, amused despite the situation. "Aren't you supposed to be the sharper one in this kind of things?"

Mwu made an attempt to imitate a theatrical bow, his voice a mock-resign. "Even my skill has to bow to women's mystical intuition sometimes."

"It's keen observation, thank you very much," she replied darkly and turned back into the house, back in front of the television as further announcements were made by Councilwoman Canaver about the process of the election. It would be held tomorrow, on the 28th of September, and attended by the member of PLANT Supreme Council and mediator Lacus Clyne, as well as several representatives from the upper echelons of ZAFT, strictly as contributors of opinion with no right to elect and be elected. Murrue stared at the pokerfaced Canaver, a woman she had only earned the chance to meet once and respected since that one moment, and tried not to think of Kira or Lacus – or their reactions at the news. It would not be violent – what a fine pair to cover feelings they were – and it was exactly what worried her.

She sighed, wishing that she could be there with every one of them and give them whatever support she could.

But when Mwu came up from behind and wrapped his arms around her, she couldn't help but to smile. "Isn't it great if they can find a love like ours?" he whispered, resting his chin on her right shoulder.

"Of course," she closed her eyes, suddenly overwhelmed by the memory of a pair of broken amethyst eyes. "But if something happens to the one you love the most, it's also going to hurt immensely."

Mwu held her a little tighter. "Athrun will be alright."

"I sure hope so. For the sake of us all," she said and put her hands on top of his. They remained like that, staring at the television even long after the news had turned to the report of a yearly celebration in the Republic of East Asia, the smell of coffee lingering in the air.

  
_**End Chapter 7  
** _


	8. Lacus - Temptation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter includes a myriad of OCs, but please bear with me for a while. To help the readers, I will put the list of PLANT Supreme Council's members, including their respective positions. There are four executive committees – the division is taken from – and twelve council members including the chairman. This is the structure before this chapter takes place:
> 
> Januarius (legislative): Councilwoman Gracia Elrich (c)  
> Februarius (administrative): Councilman Tad Elsman  
> Martius (national defense): Councilman Leon Harland  
> Aprilius (supreme council): Chairman Athrun Zala  
> Maius (national defense): Councilman Algrend Hayes (c)  
> Junius (judicial): Councilman Klaus Yulim (c)  
> Quintilis (legislative): Councilman Noel Turras  
> Sextilis (administrative): Councilman Archibald Delaware (c)  
> September (diplomatic): Councilwoman Eileen Canaver  
> October (national defense): Councilwoman Theodora Moss  
> November (judicial): Councilman Millich Leitner  
> December (national defense): Councilman Silla Gardius
> 
> The symbol (c) means that the person is the head of each committee.

  
Algrend Hayes glared at Noel Turras.

Noel Turras glared back.

Hands clasped tightly on the desk, Lacus watched the scene with mounting anxiety. On her left, Councilwoman Gracia Elrich leant back to her seat, muttering, "This is bad."

She winced. More than bad. Hayes, sometimes too hasty to speak freely what was on his mind despite his high position, had plainly accused that Councilman Turras was aiming for the chairman's seat, an allegation which practically did not sit well with the accused. On the other hand, Turras, an aggressive man of late thirty, did show some rather obvious interest which pretty much justified the claim Hayes put on him. She took in a long silent sigh and glanced at the watch hidden under her long sleeves. It was already four hours into the meeting, but it only felt like they were going in circles with no end in sight.

Hayes was the first to look away from the glaring match and his stormy gaze fell on Lacus, his voice unusually gruff when he spoke, "Is this really necessary? We all know that Miss Hawke, the Chairman's secretary, survived the accident. There is no reason to believe that Chairman Zala did not."

"It is already agreed on, Councilman Hayes," she answered patiently, resisting the urge to heave another sigh. "Unless the Chairman made an appearance at this very moment, we have to go on with the election."

The frowning face was soon schooled into a vacant expression and Algrend Hayes sat down, but not without throwing a last glare at Turras. "If the Council says so."

Lacus waited a moment for the other man to also return to his seat before speaking, "Well, then let us continue."

All eyes solemnly settled back at her and Lacus found herself wishing for the umpteenth time during the latest four hours that there was someone else she could trust enough to do the job for her. To be asked to oversee this meeting was evidently an honor, although perhaps her neutral nature did play a great part for the request to come her way. And she had accepted, despite knowing that it would turn out exactly like this.

Even under Athrun's chairmanship, factions still existed inside the Supreme Council, something one could not possibly avoid under clashing of ideals and interests. There were those who full-heartedly supported the chairman, like Elrich, Hayes, Delaware and Gardius. And then, there were others who did not appreciate the fact that they were led by someone much, much younger but could not raise anything more than negligible objections because Athrun was just _that_ good. The rest neatly kept away from any inside conflict and established themselves neutrally and precariously, fully aware that they might be forced to choose sides once a disagreement arose.

Like now. Perhaps she might be able to do something about it. A mediator she was, but even Lacus could not exactly call herself neutral. The fact that Athrun was the chairman had affected her judgment in more ways than one and although she had struggled to remain impartial, there were times...

She closed her eyes, calming herself, and took a deep breath and said, "Therefore, as we have decided before, those who may be elected as a temporary chairman are the chairperson of each executive committee. Councilwoman Gracia Elrich from Januarius, Councilman Algrend Hayes from Maius, Councilman Klaus Yulim from Junius, Councilman Archibald Delaware from Sextilis and Councilwoman Eileen Canaver from September."

"Do we have the right to refuse?" a deep female voice echoed in the meeting chamber and all heads turned to Eileen Canaver who was wearing a guarded look on her face. "Actually, given the circumstances, I prefer to concentrate on my diplomatic duties at the moment. And I personally believe that there are others fitter to lead us in this delicate situation."

 _I doubt that,_ Lacus smiled to herself, remembering the other woman's remarkable leadership which had led PLANT safely out of crisis right after the first Natural-Coordinator war. It had been a pity that she had to be replaced by Gilbert Dullindal who pretty much demolished her every effort to recreate peace.

"Of course," she replied and glanced at Algrend Hayes. "If the reason is perfectly justifiable, that is."

The councilwoman nodded, satisfied.

"In this situation," she began again, reminding her colleagues of the wasting of time they had been doing until now, "since we have yet to be able to reach a consensus and it is unlikely that we will some time near the future, the best course of action is to start the voting. On Councilwoman Canaver's request, I shall read the name of the candidates and each may state their objection if there is any."

A thicker silence settled in and Lacus deliberately let it stretched for a moment while she gathered the scattered paper on her part of the round table. She skimmed over the names written on the first page of the document and readied a pen before looking up, taking in all the grave faces around her. A smile flitted across her face and she announced, "I shall begin."

"Councilwoman Gracia Elrich." _Silence._

"Councilman Algrend Hayes." The named councilman, frowning and quite obviously displeased by the whole situation, shifted in his seat but said nothing.

"Councilman Klaus Yulim." _Silence._

"Councilwoman Eileen Canaver."

"I exercise my right to resign," the councilwoman said.

Lacus nodded. "Therefore, in reference to the reason clarified earlier, Councilwoman Canaver is no longer a candidate." She paused and turned to face the lines and rows of ZAFT officials, all dressed in stark white uniform, inquiring, "Is there any further objection on the subject of this matter?"

A stretch of murmurs rose in the background as the officers glanced and whispered among themselves. She waited, noting both the disapproving faces and the exalted ones until the noise dimmed and finally died down, leaving a blank silence and a couple of headshakes. And then she stood up, her pale hands still resting on top of the papers, and continued, "Very well. Now please write the name of the candidate you deem the most suitable to be the chairman temporarily on the paper which has been prepared in front of you."

Rustle of papers filled the chamber as silence descended once more. Lacus returned to her seat, quietly watching her colleagues falling into their habit. Some were confident, immediately scribbling a name without any second thought, and some were thoughtful, carefully weighing each option with a frowning face. She glanced at the paper under Councilman Gardius's fingers on her right, the PLANT insignia stark against the white background, and wished that she had the right to vote. The outcome was important and in spite of her supposedly nonaligned status, there were people she would rather not see occupying the chairman's seat during such unpredictable times.

Inconspicuously, she let her gaze gravitated to each candidate. Gracia Elrich was easygoing, friendly, but some said that she desired attention too much and could not always keep her words. Hayes was kind, often blunt and slightly impatient, but as a leading figure he proved to be one of the best as he had shown in managing the National Defense Committee. Klaus Yulim was a man with a cool head and great conceptual skills, but unfortunately he lacked what others might call the power to move people. Delaware was the most senior of them all and obviously triumphed in the term of experience, but inflexibility and a quick temper were also two of the many shortcomings of his character.

They all had assets and faults respectably and under normal circumstances, it would be extremely difficult to make a firm decision. However, there were many things which affected the current situation, among them the fact that Athrun had been their leader previously. In the silence, alternately glancing at the faces around the table, she had to admit that throughout the earlier four hours of discussion, she had definitely led the meeting somewhere, hardly keeping her opinions and beliefs to herself.

It brought a wonder if truly no one had realized her intentions. After all, she was not sitting with fools. But even if they did, no one had tried to challenge her authority as a moderator.

Perhaps she had been adequately discreet.

Lacus hid a wry smile. A mediator didn't actually have any power over something like this, but she knew very well of the vast influence she held over the people. And at times – at really rare times – she was not afraid to use the knowledge. It might not have been proper, but she couldn't quite trust anyone else with the job.

There had been too many mistakes. She would not allow anyone to destroy what the four of them had built and protected with so much effort, not while it was within her powers to safeguard it.

The movement all around her seemed to have ceased after a while and Lacus motioned to her assistant who was waiting behind her. He circled the table, stopping behind each council member long enough for the neatly-folded voting papers to drop into a crystalline bowl held between his hands. One might frown in front of such rudimentary method, but it was the safest. No one would be able to tamper with a handwritten vote given before all eyes, into a transparent container no less.

It was why the debate earlier was so important.

After the assistant had finished his round, Lacus got up from her seat and said, "I will read the names observed by two witnesses. If you please, Councilman Tad Elsman and Commander Wilhelm Rosand."

She nodded at the two men and walked to the empty middle of the circular table where a screen had materialized, her aide and the two witnesses following closely behind. The name of the candidates appeared in the order of cities, with an empty space left beside each name to display the amount of voters. Lacus positioned herself next to the screen, the witnesses at each of her sides, and reached into the bowl her assistant presented in front of her.

"The first vote: Algrend Hayes," she pronounced.

"Gracia Elrich."

"Algrend Hayes."

"Councilman Hayes."

"Delaware."

"Councilwoman Elrich." Lacus glanced at the growing numbers, trepidation momentarily taking her into its firm clutches. _Had she done something wrong?_

"Hayes."

"Klaus Yulim."

"Archibald Delaware."

"Councilman Hayes."

"Algrend Hayes."

Lacus let out a breath she had unconsciously held, careful to keep it inaudible and the relief she had suddenly felt unheralded by her countenance, as a ripple of handclaps filled the room. The numbers displayed beside each name clearly proclaimed the outcome of the voting. Hayes had won with five votes and the councilman looked like he was about to murder someone, most probably his supporters.

Clearing her throat, she returned all attentions to her and gestured toward the screen, speaking formally, "Under the result of the voting and the authority bestowed unto me, I hereby pronounce Councilman Algrend Hayes the temporary Chairman of PLANT."

Almost reluctantly, the young councilman rose from his seat and bowed deeply to answer to another rising applause. Lacus flashed him a sympathetic smile, knowing very well what it meant to sacrifice oneself and take on duty, and continued, addressing him, "The replacement will be in effect starting from tomorrow, after the ceremony. As it has been decided, you are released from your duty and responsibilities as the head of the National Defense Committee, also temporarily. You are to choose a substitute in Maius and your successor to chair the National Defense Committee under the surveillance of the head of Administrative Committee as soon as possible."

She took a deep breath, sweeping her serene gaze across the room, and announced, "With this, I close today's meeting with an expectation that the Supreme Council still can perform well and satisfactorily in Chairman Zala's absence. May the result of the meeting fulfill our hope for a peaceful, better world."

The end of her speech was greeted by another round of applause, many – and the rest soon followed – deferentially rising from their seats. Lacus had to keep down another relieved sigh as each one of them advanced toward her either to shake hands or commend her mediating ability. Hayes. Yes, he would be perfect, better than most at least.

The last thing on her to-do list for the day was to deliver the news to a large group of reporters who had swarmed the ground floor impatiently, cameras and lights immediately flocking around her once she stepped out of the elevator. The whole affair took about fifteen minutes before she could relinquish the matter into Eileen's capable hands and make her escape toward the building's less crowded entrance with a guilty smile.

"A great job, Lacus-sama."

The cheerful voice made her turn toward the source and she smiled at the very much welcomed presence of Gracia Elrich. Her short dark hair, tinged by shades of Prussian blue, framed an amiable tanned face and a pair of pleasantly-curved lips which was all too ready to smile. A respectable, sociable woman of thirty, Gracia was shorter by almost three inches compared to Lacus, but often emanated so much spirit that one had to wonder where she had stored that much energy in her petite body. She was also among the first who could form an almost immediate friendship with her when the mediator began to perform her duty, and remained to be one of her closest friends in PLANT beside Athrun and Eileen.

"I really wish that I share your sentiment, Gracia," she sighed ruefully. "I'm just glad that it is over."

"Ah, I know what you mean," the councilwoman nodded in sympathy and fell into step next to her. "That little clash between Turras and Algrend did heat things up a little too much and for a moment I thought it would end up with a brawl."

Lacus allowed a little smile to loosen up the remaining tension in her muscles and then inquired casually, "So what do you think?"

"Algrend?" the older woman shrugged nonchalantly. "He's the guy alright. Perhaps a bit too young, but seriously we already experienced the horror of being led by a twenty-year-old kid. Not that he was unsuccessful. Athrun was a true miracle."

One of the main reasons why she liked Gracia so much, Lacus thought affectionately, was probably her absolute lack of tact sometimes. Or perhaps it was more of a complete ease than anything. She was tired of people excusing themselves for mentioning Athrun in front of her, usually followed by long, profuse apologies and even longer expression of condolences – like he was already _dead_. She knew that the old news still lingered and more than a few fresher gossips about her competing with Meyrin for Athrun's affection were out in the community.

They were all ridiculous. One only had to look at them closely to realize that their affections did not lie in the other. Athrun had Kira and she loved a shadow. A mere shadow.

"But boy do we have the tendency to pile the works on the youngest among us," her companion said again gleefully, pulling her out of her reverie.

"You have the equal chance of being a chairwoman," Lacus pointed out and hoped that her slightly unstable voice betrayed nothing.

"Me? You must be joking," the older woman laughed. "Besides, it has always been either National Defense or Diplomatic. The rest has virtually no hope. And with Eileen resigning, the choice is pretty obvious, don't you think?"

"I hope it doesn't look like we decided on him solely for that reason."

"I don't think so," Gracia answered with an amused glint in bright grey eyes. "But let's just admit it. We didn't choose him merely because of his leadership skill and all those heavenly qualities he undoubtedly possesses."

Lacus's smile was innocent. "We didn't?"

"Obviously. We still want Athrun. That's why we think it is the safest to have Algrend at the chairman's seat. He is positively the president of Athrun Zala's fan club."

Suppressing a laugh, she kept her face as straight as possible and reprimanded lightly, "Really, Gracia, you should not say things like that."

"The truth it is, Lacus-sama," the councilwoman winked at her. "But he is a good boy, and an excellent leader too. He'll do superbly compared to the rest of us. And I really should start to watch my tongue," she added with a grin.

The two friends crossed the entrance of the Supreme Council building into the cool, breezy night, a companionable silence between them. Lacus took in a lungful of that refreshing air as her friend spoke up again. "Do you have anything else to do this evening? There is a new Hungarian restaurant not far from here. My brother truly recommends it, especially the Goulash soup. Why don't we go together now?" And she deliberately paused, her youthful face alight with a knowing smile which immediately alerted Lacus of something very undesirable. "Unless you have a date of course."

"You know very well that there is no such thing," the mediator said, shaking her head disapprovingly.

"No date? Oh, come one, Lacus-sama, don't kid your older sister," Gracia Elrich shook her head in disbelief. "You, the most eligible bachelorette at and beyond PLANT, has no date? The world is rolling to its end."

"This is Monday night, Gracia," Lacus reminded her. "Besides, I don't have the time."

The councilwoman made a face at her. "Of all excuses, you just have to choose the most prosaic, don't you? No, I refuse to buy that. The real problem is," she waved a hand in the air accusingly, "you put up too high of a standard."

"I certainly do not," Lacus defended herself with a thin smile and quickly made a turn of conversation. "What about you then? When will I receive a wedding invitation?"

A twinkle appeared in those grey eyes and it made her heart suddenly ached. "Hopefully next year," the older woman said, her face breaking into a full grin of happiness and Lacus couldn't help but to notice the light pink glow on her tanned cheeks. "He's still complaining that I cannot possibly move out from Januarius until April. And if I am to be so unlucky to get elected again next year, he's the one who has to follow me. Not that it will be a real pain for him. I mean, to compose songs and stuff you only need your head and imagination, right? His instruments are not that heavy either." The gush of words stopped and she suddenly found herself fixed with a shrewd look. "But I seem to remember that we aren't talking about _me_ right now."

Lacus lowered her eyes to the ground and smiled even though her facial muscles felt inexplicably stiff. "Really, Gracia, there is no such person in my life yet."

Or anymore.

Maybe her friend noticed the twinge in her voice, or it was the fleeting lapse of control to the expression on her face – or the gods simply were feeling merciful enough to her at this moment – because she then dropped the matter with a shrug. "If you say so," the councilwoman said and added a dramatic sigh at the end of her words. "Let us just go eat and forget all these political problems. I'll make sure you put some meat into those tiny bones of yours, and you will not call your chauffeur to pick you up until I'm thoroughly satisfied. Do I make myself clear?"

Lacus bit her lips, forcing a smile to quirk their edges once more. "Undeniably, Councilwoman."

_No one…_

_Or no more._

But she understood. She knew how it felt. It had never been the matter of her standard in the first place, or a problem of finding the one person whom she could love with all her heart.

She had found him, and then lost him.

To someone she wished to be happy more than anything.

The familiar ringtone of her cell phone interrupted her reminiscing, which Lacus was immensely glad for. A message was waiting for her and she hit the 'open' button, silently praying that nothing terrible had happened.

The first line almost froze her in her steps.

_I am coming to PLANT._

Her eyes suddenly blurred and the rest of the message lost its meaning to her. She stared, seeing but not comprehending, her eyes never leaving the display which glowed bright pink as her feet kept following her friend's brisk pace amidst the drably presence of other pedestrians. The words played in her mind again and again,

_I am coming to PLANT._

Oh, Kira.

She inhaled a deep breath, ignoring a lump which had suddenly risen from the back of her throat. She knew, had been thinking about it unconsciously all along this week, but not until now the realization had hit her in the face full force. Repelling another wave of nausea, she held the phone close to her chest and tried not to think about a love long since passed, or a pair of amethyst eyes which she had loved and _still_ loved until this very second. But the dark thoughts remained, breeding ominously in the backmost of her mind ever since the news of Athrun's accident had reached her ears, caressing her with its cold, tantalizing fingers.

_He is finally yours.  
_

****_End Chapter Eight  
_   



	9. Luna - To Li(v)e

  
Lunamaria Hawke was furious.

A model whom she had an appointment with arrived thirty minutes late and the fitting session afterward did nothing to alleviate her bad mood. She already had more than her share of dealing with big shot models with pretty face, tall attitude, but virtually no brain. An important fashion show was coming up and their interest should be favorably mutual, but there were those who behaved like she was the one who desperately needed them, not the other way round. Of course sometimes she would have the chance to meet a decent one, but those occasions were few and far in between.

 _As if they can live without a contract,_ she frowned and kicked a stray pebble.

Already an assistant to the chief designer of a major brand in her age of twenty year old, Luna worshipped punctuality, a trait which sadly was rarely shared by the pretty models she worked with and many of her colleagues. But her boss appreciated it very much and thus the fast leaps of her career. But sometimes, _sometimes_ she did wish that her work didn't take so much of her time. Especially with a sister lying sick in the hospital.

Oh Meyrin.

Quickening her pace, Luna found herself reminiscing the day of the shuttle incident. At first, there had been news of triple murders of the Supreme Council members, which she had drunk in with a mix of horror and strange relish, a familiar thrill humming in her chest. She had left that world long ago, but sometimes she could not help but to miss the excitement, the danger, enjoying blood rushing in her body. Luna remembered calling her old friend Youlan who was still working at ZAFT and hearing the nervous edge in his voice, his meticulous choosing of vocabularies and the occasional stutters. She had immediately suspected that something had gone wrong and managed to grind the news out of him ten minutes later.

The words had taken one full minute to sink in and when they finally had, her first thought had been why it had felt so familiar. She had never experienced déjà vu before and never known that it could feel so horrible.

But Luna was never a woman who gave up too quickly. After the initial shock had passed, she had demanded explanation and refused to accept the possibility that her sister might have died in the accident. The ugliest of all was when she had discovered the cause of the accident, along with a name she had known so well.

She had struggled against that monster once and now found herself losing the same battle she had triumphed over three years ago. It had been hard to forgive Shinn then, but she had quickly realized what it meant to be a soldier, and that it had been Meyrin's choice to help Athrun escape and thus sign her death warrant. But now the circumstances were different. From what she had found out, it was purely rooted in a little fault her ex-boyfriend obviously hadn't been able to overcome since their younger years in the academy: _carelessness_. And it torched blistering anger in her veins.

Shinn had called her once and she remembered shouting incoherent insults at his strained apology. They ended up crying together over the phone and like it had been three years ago, on that moment she was able to accept the truth. There couldn't be a miracle for the second time, could it?

But it did happen.

Ever since Meyrin had returned, Luna dedicated every second of her free time in the hospital – since her employer could not afford to give her a leave with so important of a show coming up. It hurt her to listen to the cheerful voice, see the smiling lips, but then notice that her sister's eyes were two dead pools. And she had heard it just yesterday, when she had returned to the room to fetch the design of her newest dress which she had accidentally left there, the soft crying falling from Meyrin's mouth and the whispered, broken words.

" _Athrun…Athrun…I'm sorry…"_

The rest were incomprehensible sobs and Luna was so close to crying herself that she ran to the lavatory and forgot about the sketch altogether. At that moment she hated the world, everyone; Shinn, Athrun, herself. Because she didn't know how to pick up the fallen pieces of her sister's shattered heart. She didn't know of love enough. She never really had the chance. Not _this_ kind of love.

Luna drew in a heavy breath, her heart throbbing at the thought. She never clung to the past – it didn't worth it – but sometimes, even with that many tears Meyrin had shed, she couldn't help but envy the love that had caused them. And hearing Shinn's tense voice a few days ago, a thought abruptly came to mind. If they had not decided to end their relationship, would she know how it felt?

A bitter laugh almost escaped from her enclosed throat. Again. The past. She didn't think that she could ever love Shinn in the way Meyrin gave her heart to Athrun and she had not changed her mind about their decision. She knew him too long, too well, and for Luna, it was a mistake.

Those stupid thoughts would pass eventually, she assured herself. What mattered for her now was that her sister was safe and sound, the rest could wait for later. It was one of the most obvious benefits of not having a serious boyfriend, she thought wryly.

Before taking the last turn to the hospital, she passed a bakery and was enticed by the thought of a slice of strawberry cheesecake. Meyrin loved it to death and seeing how little she had eaten yesterday, Luna was determined to do anything to return her appetite. She mentally made a note to ask the doctor about it later.

It was that news, she said to herself resentfully. Locked up in a hospital room, a patient had nothing to do but to watch a television available there. And of course the decision from PLANT Supreme Council that they would elect a temporary chairman would make it into the news. She had been there when the news had aired yesterday, arranging the flowers her boss had insisted her to take for Meyrin, and she had finally recognized emotion in those eyes. Disbelief. Anger. Disappointment. It was regrettable but not unexpected that the news was the first thing which could get a genuine reaction out of her.

Luna honestly could not care less about who was going to play substitute to Athrun's absence. She had left that world long ago and politics had never interested her much in the first place. Meyrin was different. Luna might be the prettier, smarter, friendlier, and the more confident, but Meyrin always had her tenacity, strong will, devotion and love. She put her heart in everything she did and because of that, they all held such a meaning for her and everyone around her.

It had not come as a surprise when Meyrin had called her and said that she was going to be Chairman Zala's secretary. There had been a bond between them ever since she had followed him to Archangel. Luna wasn't surprised, but she would be lying if she said that there was no envy. Athrun had been a crush of her and at that moment, she had just broken up with Shinn for three months. But it would also be a lie if she said that she wasn't happy for her sister.

It was why, that when Meyrin had told her that the chairman had loved someone else for a very long time, her first reaction had been incredulity. Her sister was a suitable partner for him, that she was sure of, and the world would be damned if those helluva of gossips circulating around didn't have a single base of truth. But Meyrin had only smiled at her and said that she didn't stand a chance, because it would be horribly repulsive of her to destroy a love that was so beautiful. Luna had stared at her, incredulous, and asked why. Her sister only shook her head and Luna asked who. She had never gotten a name out of her mouth no matter how hard she tried, and deep down, her respect for her sister had increased tenfold because of it.

Secretly, she thought that had it been her, she wouldn't be able to do what Meyrin had done. Luna was never a woman who gave up too easily and she kept the words as true as possible. A rival would stimulate her, not weaken her desire to win.

Secretly, she thought that it was because she had never known what true love felt like.

Treading her way silently but quickly across the front hall of the hospital, she arrived at the reception desk and quickly said before a smiling nurse behind the desk could say her greeting. "I have an appointment to meet Dr. Julius Latham about my sister's condition. It should be at three o'clock, but something came up and…" she trailed off and waved her hand eloquently.

The nurse reacted quickly and checked with her computer. "Dr. Latham is currently attending to his patients, Miss," she informed after a moment. "If you are willing to wait for a few minutes, I shall tell the doctor of your coming."

"Yes, of course," she nodded.

"And if I may inquire your name, Miss?"

"Lunamaria Hawke," she said quickly. "I'll be waiting at my sister's room, 605. Thanks a lot."

After flashing a grateful smile at the nurse, she headed to the elevator. It was empty and she huffed in relief when the door slid closed and left her isolated from the world, weariness finally settling in her feet. She closed her eyes, enjoying a moment of peace. The last two weeks had been particularly hectic. Beside the incident, she had to deal with administration problems at her job, and then there were the designs she needed to work on for the show. It was astonishing how her current life could take more of her time than the previous years of military service had.

 _Don't whine,_ she chided herself. Her sister had returned and it was what mattered the most. The extreme relief she had felt when she found out that the worst had not happened to Meyrin would probably be alive forever in her memory. And when her sister had come back with Vernes and she had gone to the port to make sure of the fact and just to _see_ her face, she almost broke into tears right there and then.

Luna took in an unsteady breath and repositioned her bag under her arm as the elevator came into a halt. She strode along the deserted corridor, unconsciously thinking about the small object tucked deep inside one of the many pockets of her handbag. The door leading to room 605 stood in front of her and she only stared at it, stock-still, her sister's request just the day before ringing in her head.

The request which made her cry afterward.

Suddenly the door was opened from the other side and she almost collided with a man coming out from the room. The telltale white coat and stethoscope was enough to let her know who he was, but it was him who spoke up first.

"Miss Lunamaria Hawke?"

"Yes," she answered politely. "Doctor Latham, I suppose?"

"No other," an easy smile graced the handsome face which Luna could not help but to appreciate. But the smile quickly turned into a somber expression and he said again, "I need to speak to you concerning your sister."

She inhaled a deep breath, steeling herself, and nodded. "I'm listening."

The doctor gave him a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, it's not exactly bad news. She is recuperating well and I have no doubt that she will make a full recovery soon. However, her mental state is what I am most concerned about. As you have undoubtedly known, she is barely responding to any external input and seems to be caught up in her own thoughts." At this point, Luna opened her mouth to contradict but he was faster. "Don't get me wrong. I know she looks pretty normal and that's exactly what makes me anxious. She experienced a loss, and while it is somewhat a relief to see her not drowning herself in misery, I fear for her stability."

"I understand that she has recently suffered a great psychological blow," he continued, his voice deep and steady still, "and it can have an impact to her normal life. There may be nightmares and many other traumatic consequences for a while. That is why I truly recommend some therapy sessions if your sister will agree to it. I suppose she has a military background?"

"Yes," Luna nodded, "before she became the chairman's secretary, that is."

The expression on the doctor's face became thoughtful and he was silent for a while before inquiring, "She was a very close person to Chairman Zala, wasn't she?"

Luna felt a frown creasing her brow, her voice coming out cold and firm as she answered, "She _is_."

"Ah, yes, of course," he quickly said, an apologetic smile curving his lips. "Well, that is all I need to convey, Miss Hawke. Oh, and one more thing. It will be advisable that she isn't staying alone for a while once discharged from the hospital. She will need some moral support and to be alone is hardly helpful."

"I do not plan to, Doctor," she said, attempting nothing more than a tight smile to show her gratitude to the advice.

"Very well then," he nodded at her, smiling sweetly, and stepped aside. "Good day, Miss Hawke."

Always, always the good-looking ones managed to irk her in some ways. Luna followed the retreating figure from the corner of her eyes, her frown deepening now that there was no longer anyone there to see it. Athrun had made her impatient with his introversion and sometimes, also indecisiveness despite appearing very cool from time to time. Shinn had wearied her to no end with his immaturity and unhealthy obsession with a certain pink cell phone and really, a long-distance relationship just didn't work for her. A few men she had dated in the past three years also had some little flaws she had discovered she couldn't tolerate in the end. If loving someone meant that she had to accept her boyfriend as what he was, completely and unconditionally, Luna seriously doubted that she could ever do it.

Shaking her head to get the thoughts out of her mind, she turned to the door and knocked. Meyrin's soft voice drifted out from the room, rising above the drone of television, and Luna opened it to her sister's smiling face.

"I was wondering if you were too busy and couldn't come today," Meyrin said cheerfully, her red maroon pajamas stark against the white sheet of her bed. Like her smile against her pale face, Luna noted with a pang in her heart.

"What wouldn't I do for you, little sister?" she replied, keeping any melancholy out of her voice. "Today I'm not too busy anyway. Where do those come from?" she nodded toward another vase standing next to the red poppies she had arranged just yesterday. A cluster of white gardenias combined with scattered stems of lavender, lavish and obviously pricey. Luna just had to smile at this.

"My, aren't they pretty. A secret admirer?" she added with an innocent smile.

Her sister's pale cheeks suddenly attained a light shade of pink and her voice was a little too high-pitched when she answered, "Don't get any funny idea, Onee-san. Youlan was here today and he gave me those."

Luna's smile widened a notch. "Youlan, eh?"

Meyrin opened her mouth and looked more than ready to provide another argument when she suddenly stiffened, her gaze running past Luna to something behind her. The fashion designer turned around and almost cursed out loud when she found herself looking at the television, currently broadcasting another news about the election. As if the commotion wasn't enough. Luna silently swore to find a way to _remove_ that object from her sister's room.

"I almost forgot," Meyrin's voice was quiet, restrained, "they elected a new chairman last night, didn't they?"

"A new _temporary_ chairman," Luna deadpanned, her tone of voice forcing her sister to look back at her.

A cheerless smile made its way to Meyrin's face. "You don't usually care for semantics."

"Only when I deem important."

The smile remained on her face for a moment of silence, which Luna soon regretted. The news about the election had ended only to be replaced by one covering the search of their missing chairman. In a grave voice, the presenter reported that the search would be officially stopped tomorrow at twelve p.m. under many considerations. The temporary chairman had expressed his objection in this matter but ZAFT had other duties and he was aware of it. He had promised another team to investigate the matter more deeply and before the reporter could say anything else, Luna turned back to her sister and asked quickly, "What did you speak with Youlan?"

"Eh?"

"You said Youlan came here. What did he speak about?"

"Nothing much," the darkness disappeared from Meyrin's eyes – or was it merely concealed? Luna scarcely knew, but her suspicion remained even with that neutral voice and the little smile on her sister's face. "He told me stories about his work mostly, and then about his new girlfriend. Can you believe that there's a new one already? I seem to remember a girl with long blonde hair – Levina or something – from that party two months ago."

Exhibiting one of her knowing smiles, Luna put in a comment, "I still think that he hasn't gotten over his huge crush for you. That's why he's behaving like that."

Meyrin arched a skeptical eyebrow. "By boasting about his new girlfriend in front of me?"

"By trying to provoke jealousy from you," Luna corrected, still smiling widely, and added with a chuckle, "Too bad it misfired though."

"It's an odd way to show one's affection."

"He is Youlan, never honest enough," Luna pointed out with a sigh. She was seldom wrong in this kind of things and she remembered encouraging Youlan to make a move on her sister, but all she got in return was a violent denial – though it came with a beet-red face and heavy stuttering. Never honest enough, she sighed again inwardly. All she hoped for was a wonderful set-up – Luna was already at her limit seeing her dearest little sister hoping for a seemingly-impossible love – and Meyrin surely liked Youlan enough.

But was it really enough? Love was not something you could just buy from an everyday store and shove into your sister's hand. It wasn't the first time Luna wished that Athrun had never come into their life.

Still, giving up was not her forte at all.

"It's very nice of him," she said, caressing the beautiful bouquet with honest admiration. At the same time, another emotion prickled inside her chest.

Meyrin who owned the heart of one man. Meyrin who had been in love with another for the last five years. Meyrin who couldn't forget.

"Yes, it is," the voice that replied to her was somber and a sidelong glance told Luna that her sister was obviously reluctant to pursue the subject. She frowned, more than familiar with the detrimental results due to a unbreakable attachment to a certain chairman, but conceded at last. Meyrin's condition was not at its best, she reminded herself.

That didn't mean she was giving up though. Someone just had to wipe Athrun out of Meyrin's heart.

"Onee-san," the voice rose again and the tentativeness shadowing it alerted Luna at one. If it didn't, the sight of her sister's staring down at her clasped hands as if she was afraid to look at her certainly would.

"Do you bring what I asked yesterday?" she finally asked.

Luna felt her heart crumbling at the question. _Meyrin who couldn't forget._ Damn it.

"Yes," she replied reluctantly and reached inside her bag, fumbling for the box she had retrieved from her sister's room just this morning. The small object felt heavy in her hand as she extended it out for her to see. "Is this it?"

"Yes, thank you." The sadness was palpable in her eyes and Luna suddenly felt that she wanted to strangle something.

Her long, taper fingers – one quality Luna couldn't help but envy from time to time even though her own were not that bad – caressed the black velvety casing with such care that it almost hurt to see. A cream coloured card peeked from inside once the lid was opened, embellished with a neat handwriting everyone could pretty much guessed whose. After all, not just anybody could put that look on Meyrin's face.

Luna had seen the gift only twice and in each occasion, nothing could refrain her from bursting with total admiration. It wasn't any different now. Once the card was removed, there was a pendant sitting on the black velvet in its full glory, beautiful red gems fashioning the shape of a single leaf with little diamonds adorning its border. A delicate silver lace chained the jewel to the box and Luna remembered how beautiful it had seemed against the pale skin of her sister's neck.

There had been many reasons why she had refused to believe in Athrun's indifference at first and it had been one.

"I'm very stupid, am I not?" Meyrin's unsteady voice distracted her from the pendant. "I don't even have the right–"

"Meyrin," Luna cut in firmly, trying to ignore the coldness that had settled in the depth of her stomach, "it's okay to love. There is nothing wrong with it. But sometimes," she swallowed, pressured by the big sorrowful eyes that were looking at her almost pleadingly, but went on bravely, "sometimes we _need_ to let go."

"I have!" her sister nearly choked in her own words, "You have no idea! I know that he has somebody else and I have decided to let him go. But this I cannot accept! I can't bear not seeing him again and..." Her voice started to wither and she looked at the pendant, undeterred longing in her dark grey eyes. "I wish I–"

"No," Luna gritted her teeth, barely aware that she had been gripping her bag too tightly. "You will make me very sad if you say that."

Tears sprung in conflicting eyes and Meyrin reached for her empty hand, whispering, "Oh Nee-san. I'm really sorry. I really don't mean that."

"It's alright," she shook her head, ignoring the cold laughter ringing in her head. Because who would believe that? It wasn't alright. They were _not_ alright. Still she smiled and stroked her sister's long hair soothingly. "Everything will be okay in time."

Meyrin looked ready to break down into tears. "I can't believe that he's…"

"It's true that we must prepare ourselves," Luna said again, a hint of steel in her voice, "but until it is an undeniable fact, you can't lose hope, Meyrin."

Her sister's smile was sad, poignant. "Don't you think it's an empty hope?"

"Probably," she answered quietly, finally letting out a shaky breath she had been holding since who-knows-when. "But you believe him, don't you?"

"Yes."

Inwardly, she released a sigh. "Good girl."

Another smile, less despondent, drew a delicate curve on Meyrin's lips and she squeezed her older sister's hands, murmuring quietly, "Thank you for always being here, Onee-san."

Smiling back, Luna ruffled the pink head affectionately. "Don't worry about it. A little sister always troubles her big sister, that's a fact."

"You're as mean as ever," Meyrin put on a childish pout and settled back to the bed, looking more relaxed even though the box remained seated on her lap. Luna refrained herself from saying anything and diverted her attention to the vases on the table. _Change the water,_ an idea popped up in her mind.

"By the way, Shinn called yesterday," Meyrin suddenly spoke up again.

The name stiffened her before she could reach out for any of the vases, and Luna had to force herself to stay nonchalant and carry on the conversation properly. "What did he say?"

"I didn't get the chance to speak with him," answered Meyrin with a sigh. "He called when I was asleep. The nurse told me. Too bad because I really want to speak with him." She paused, thick silence hanging in the air like butter waiting for a knife to come down and cut it with ease. Luna glanced back and put an innocent smile on display when Meyrin narrowed her eyes in suspicion.

"You didn't yell at him, did you?"

"Not badly."

"Onee-san!"

"I was really heartbroken!" she argued back defensively. "But I did forgive him in the end."

"Good then," Meyrin was still eyeing her doubtfully. "Did he say anything?"

"He felt guilty, that's for certain. Serves him right though," Luna muttered, sounding more spiteful than she actually felt, and almost grimaced when she caught her sister looking at her with reproach etched on every inch of her face. "I'm sorry, Meyrin, but I really found it hard to forgive him when I discovered the truth. A single apology just wasn't enough."

"It isn't the truth," Meyrin murmured. "Not yet at least."

Luna was silent for a moment and then answered slowly, "Yes, I know."

Perhaps her sister was right, that she had been unfair. She had been angry – not to mention confused, miserable – and Shinn had provided her an easy lashing target especially with a reasonable basis to back her up. Well, he had admitted that it was his fault, right? And he had been so meek – timid, apologetic – so _unlike_ the Shinn she had come to know in the academy and fought side by side with, and for some reasons it had upset her greatly.

A deep sigh broke the silence and Luna looked up at her sister's hesitant voice. "Ne, Onee-san?"

"Don't ask me to apologize to him," she said hastily.

Meyrin rolled her eyes. "I wasn't about to, although I really think that you should. You can't just blame him like that, Onee-san. If someone is at fault, it's the one who fooled around with the machine."

"We'll see," Luna replied evasively and warded off the frown she felt coming. "So you're saying?"

The ambiguous, slightly-hopeful-but-sad look returned and Luna was so close to looking away. She recognized that look. How could you forget the moment when you realized that the one person you wanted to be happy the most was breaking inside? She realized that no girl in her right mind would run off to save a guy's life with her own life on the line unless she fell in love head over heels with said guy. And normally, the guy didn't just forget about it and loved somebody else, right? But it happened to Meyrin. At a New Year Eve party two years ago, Luna finally realized that.

And at that fleeting moment, buried beneath layers of remorse for her sister, there was little relief, faint but decidedly there. If that was truly falling in love all about, she sincerely thanked the gods that she hadn't experienced any. Maybe it could lift you up to the seventh heaven, but if it could also make you felt like hanging between dead and living – because the hope was just an arm's length too far – she would gladly choose to pass.

But Meyrin had stayed there for all those years, alone, maybe hoping even until now. And she was still looking at her older sister, her request falling softly from her lips.

"Can you help me to put this necklace on?"

Luna found herself fighting the urge to run away out of the room, but managed to keep her feet under control. "Of course," she smiled stiffly and reached for the jewelry.

As she sat at the edge of the bed and fumbled with the lock, Meyrin continued speaking, sounding almost cheerful despite the dull edge of her voice. "He gave it on my nineteenth birthday last year, do you remember? We celebrated it at your favourite restaurant. And I was blushing like some stupid school girl when I opened it," she chuckled, a sound that pierced Luna's heart painfully. "It does look expensive, doesn't it? I wonder how much he spent on this."

"You are a very valuable person for him, Meyrin," Luna said, firm, more like a desperate try to convince someone than a mere stating of fact, and tugged at the chain almost too forcefully.

"I have never doubted it," Meyrin replied with a hint of pride. "And you are right, Onee-san. Sometimes I do hope that I can just forget about him and find someone else. Too bad it isn't as easy at it sounds."

Luna bit her tongue, swallowing back a stinging reply she knew her sister just wouldn't appreciate. It wasn't his fault, she would say with a frown. But it was unfair that a guy could hold so much influence, could take so much space in a girl's heart when he didn't even love her. Luna felt her head spinning madly. She had hated Athrun Zala in various ways before – some childish, some just plain envy, some rooted in her wounded female pride – but decided that this was unquestionably the worst.

"I just don't want to run away," Meyrin said again, sounding stronger than she must be feeling.

Abandoning her train of thoughts, Luna patted her sister on the back and announced, adding just a little shade of teasing into her voice, "If that is the case, once you're out from this hospital, I'll introduce you to the best-looking of my friends. Some that I'm working with now are the most handsome men I've ever met, you know."

Meyrin raised her eyebrows skeptically. "I seem to remember you saying that most of them only have good looks and nothing else."

"Eyecandy, darling," Luna grinned and shrugged, hoping that none of her worries was detectable. "Simply watching cannot possibly hurt, can it?"

"So no touching allowed?"

She found herself smirking. "Well, as long as you like him and he's ready to marry you, I hardly can care less."

Meyrin laughed and Luna followed soon after, other matters forgotten for a moment.

But when she was about to go and shut the door behind her, she had a glimpse of her sister fingering the necklace, that painful, longing look back on her face. Luna felt a cold hand wrenching her heart away, but the pain was just so dull that she realized she was growing accustomed to it.

Just like her sister.

Luna smiled bitterly and the door closed with a soft click.

  
_**End Chapter 9  
** _


	10. Shinn - For Better or Worse

  
Shinn hated waiting. Immensely. Any activity that included sitting around with absolutely nothing to do never sat well with him.

But what he hated even more was to wait with a nervous feeling eating him from the inside and knowing very well that he couldn't do a thing about it. That was an absolute hell.

It had only been one or two minutes. The call was going to get through this time, he knew it, and with each passing second, fear was mounting fast in his chest. He stared blankly at the letter 'S' decorating his coffee mug, a Christmas gift from his superior last year, his fingers tapping the surface of his desk in an irregular rhythm. The tension dulled his senses, almost detaching him from reality like a thin sheet spread out all over his body, but his ears remained alert for a change to the repetitious sound which told him that he was still on hold.

Shinn thought that he had confronted the worst when he had picked up the phone and dialed Luna's number. It had not been a pleasant experience to gather the necessary courage and inform a close friend of yours that you might have killed her sister, and now that he had repeated the occasion, he might as well try to hand his plate on a silver platter. When Luna's trembling voice had escalated to a full-scale howl, Shinn remembered thinking that he didn't deserve anything less.

It was little more than the blind side of anger, he knew, but every accusation his former girlfriend had put on him stabbed him deeply. Perhaps because Luna had been so forgiving in the former occasion. Or perhaps because Shinn knew that every word of them was true.

And now he was calling Meyrin.

He would never admit it out loud, but yesterday, when the nurse had informed him that Meyrin was unable to receive his call, he had felt unbelievably relieved. Shinn was not a coward, hated cowardice to the farthest point and regularly kicked his subordinates' asses for bearing the slightest resemblance to that one attitude, but it was one thing to bring yourself before the one you had wronged gravely and say 'I'm sorry, I fuck up, you can hit me'. It was an entirely different matter to realize that it would be the second time you said that to the same person.

But Shinn had to admit that he would rather face every person he had wronged in the universe than cause any of them death. He glanced to his right at the closed door, frowning as uncertainties began to rise in his chest. Secretly, _fervently_ , he had been hoping that Kira would find Athrun. After all they were the two war heroes who seemed ridiculously immortal no matter what anyone tried to bring the myth to an end. He had promised himself that there was nothing short of a dead body brought to his own face that would make him lose his hope.

But the hope was dwindling fast, especially now when the prolonged absence of his general was getting to its end. There had not been a word about anyone finding anything after the life pod with Meyrin in it had been discovered.

"Hello?"

Right. _Meyrin._ He straightened himself up and cleared his suddenly dry throat. Her voice was low and cautious, almost as if its owner was expecting some very bad news from the call. Which was probably the case, Shinn realized with a wince.

"Meyrin."

"Oh, Shinn!" the voice changed drastically, now sounding almost ecstatic. He blinked, taken aback. Definitely not the reaction he was expecting. "How are you? I'm sorry I was asleep yesterday. The nurse said that you called me."

"It's okay," he murmured, feeling more awkward than he had been in years. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine, I'm recovering pretty fast according to the doctor," the cheerful note was still there and Shinn started doubting if he even spoke to the right person. Or perhaps he had fallen asleep while waiting, that would be a good explanation. But everything seemed real enough and Meyrin kept speaking with that unnaturally cheerful voice of her. "I should be able to go home next week. I really can't wait to. You have no idea how boring hospital can be."

"That's great to hear." The words came out more like a squeak and it took all his willpower not to abandon his seat and kick out an officer who had just come into the office with a stack of documents. That _undignified_ sound from a _lieutenant general!_

"Thanks." He could almost see the corresponding smile on Meyrin's face and for a moment he forgot about the unwelcome intruder. "Too bad you're fifteen minutes late. If you called me earlier, you'd've been able to speak to Onee-san too."

Shinn winced. Well, it was one thing he wasn't sure to be disappointed or grateful about. And the officer was already eyeing him uncertainly at this point. He glared, pointing at the relatively empty desk across the room, and added another glare once the stack had been put down carefully, scaring the man away. His temper's reputation certainly had its uses.

"Luna was there?" Shinn forced himself to ask once he was alone again, trying to sound normal. Not that he was curious or anything, just to fill in the blank.

"Every day. I've never been showered with so much attention from her since I was probably two or three," the small piece of information was ended with an affectionate chuckle, but her voice turned serious when she spoke again, "I heard she got angry at you. Really sorry, Shinn. I'm sure Onee-san was only worried about me and didn't mean anything by that."

But _that_ meant something for Shinn. Something snapped within him and at the next moment, he had found himself nursing a fast-rising anger and speaking abruptly in long trains of words that seemed to tumble out of his mouth in their own free will. "Meyrin, listen, I don't care how this sounds but I'm a stupid irresponsible asshole and you know it. You're always too kind. You didn't say anything that time. _He_ didn't say anything that time. You both smiled when I felt like you should kick my ass or punch me until I lose all my teeth or whatever. But I'll be damned if I let you do the same now."

There was a deafening silence as he breathed in and out heavily after the short, sudden outburst, and then a quiet chuckle from the other side of the line. "Shinn, you just never change," Meyrin said, sounding amused and sad at the same time. "I really like that side of you, but Shinn... I understand how you feel but blaming yourself won't make us find him faster."

"I know, it's just–" he swallowed, gripping the receiver tightly, "I don't know what I should do. I feel more worthless than shit."

There was a soft sniff and Meyrin's voice was slightly unstable when she replied, "I wish I can help you, but I'm still hoping despite everything, Shinn. And it's really painful."

The last word came out more like a whisper and Shinn buried his face in his empty hand, eyes suddenly burning with something more than angry tears. "God, Meyrin, I'm so sorry. If I can trade places with him–"

"Don't say stupid things like that," she cut him firmly, a disapproving note ringing in her voice. "You know I don't wish for it."

"But if it could make everything better?"

"And make someone else feel as horrible as you do now? I never knew you to be so selfish, Shinn."

Perhaps it was the obvious distaste in her voice, because he suddenly found himself lost for words. It wasn't his intention – of course not. He would rather die than cause an innocent person to bear his burden. He had never actually tried to see it from that angle, but when Meyrin put it that way... He closed his eyes and massaged his temple, murmuring, "Right, I'm sorry."

A sigh echoed from the line and Meyrin said patiently, "You're not in the wrong."

"No, but my stupidity is."

"Okay, so your stupidity is," the patience was gone in an instant and Shinn could only listen, dumbfounded, as his friend broke into an irritated rant. "Then why don't you rip it off your skinny ass and kick it to Artemis? I think it will solve the problem pretty fast. Or do whatever you want as long as we don't have to see it anymore because it's annoying and please, Shinn, grow up. No one is blaming you and if there is one, I'll be the first to confront them and tell them to buy some screws to fix their head because they obviously have it all wrong."

Shinn found himself gaping at the end of the rant and the next second, he could no longer contain a wave of laughter that was bubbling up his throat. "You're spending way too much time with Athrun," he pointed out and was horrorstricken when he realized that he had said _the_ name.

But Meyrin only dismissed it with a matching laugh. "Maybe I am. Being with him has its advantages. There are some useful tricks I can definitely use in daily life."

"I'm sure making me feel like the biggest loser in the world is one of them," he said dryly, inwardly grateful that there was no video link available in the hospital lest she could see that his face was currently drowned in relief.

"Who knows, although I must say it is a very useful skill indeed," she replied cheekily.

Shinn smiled despite the witty reply. If her intention was to make him feel better, she had done a damn good job about it. If only he could see her smile, to know that she was also smiling and not just pretending for his sake. He wanted nothing more than to lessen her burden as well, because in spite of everything she had said, Shinn knew that he had made a mistake, had played a role in something which none of them wanted to happen.

"You don't have to feel guilty," suddenly she said again, almost as if she could read his mind. "I know everything may not end up like we want to, but I'm trying, Shinn, I'm trying to accept the truth. It doesn't help to be delusional. Onee-san said so too."

The strong, beautiful Luna. The woman he had left in search of his dreams, in the chase of his ideals. Shinn felt a familiar hand twisting his heart at the thought and couldn't help but to murmur, "She forgave me."

"I know," Meyrin's voice was calm, almost soothing. "She is the most mature of us all, don't you think?"

"She is your Onee-san, so that's okay, but I at least should be able to act as mature as her," he wryly pointed out.

Meyrin giggled, a sound that suddenly made his heart felt ten times lighter – and if it didn't, her following words certainly would. "But you've changed too, Shinn, in a way. The old Shinn wouldn't listen to me and admit that I'm right although he obviously thinks so."

He was surprised. It wasn't as if he had wanted her to know that he had vowed to change for the better, but she knew nevertheless. And it was another thing he wasn't sure what to feel about. For comparison, the old him would certainly be upset – more out of embarrassment than irritation – that Meyrin had been able to distinguish what he counted as sacredly personal, and his defensive mechanism would be up in no time. But he remembered Kira and what he had learnt about pride and its uses, and thought that he could do it too.

"Thank you," Shinn heard himself mumble.

Meyrin must be genuinely surprised because for a long while, only silence would answer to his two little, mumbled words. Or maybe she didn't hear that, he found himself hoping as his face heated up in alarming eagerness. He shouldn't have said anything. Even if Kira could do it, this clearly wasn't for him. He could already feel himself slowly and painfully dying because of embarrassment.

And then of course Meyrin had to go and say, "What was that again? I think I must have misheard."

To die because of embarrassment sounded thoroughly appalling if not ridiculous, but even that wouldn't hold a candle to what he was suffering now, which was to live and breathe with embarrassment. Shinn didn't dare to imagine what state his face was in now and sent prayers desperately to every god above that no subordinate of his would come again into the room until he could do something about it.

"You're testing me, aren't you?" he growled sourly.

Another chuckle greeted his accusation. "I must say that being able to detect _that_ is also another proof that you've changed. Congratulations, Shinn."

"I really have no idea if you are mocking or flattering me."

"Well, that's for you to guess," her reply was airy, hardly-suppressed amusement colouring her voice.

But it was already an established fact that he couldn't stay angry with Meyrin for long, and now, after all he had done, only made the fact more obvious. And there was a little part of him which whispered relief, calming him because the sound of her voice eased his own troubled heart and made him hope, even if just a little, that everything was alright and they could move on. Closing his eyes, Shinn found himself once more wishing that he could see her. He wanted to make sure with his own eyes that she was alright, that the wound he had – although not deliberately – inflicted on her was not incurable.

"I wish I can go to PLANT and see you," he said, his voice so soft that it nearly sounded like a whisper.

"Oh, I don't need two people fussing after me," she answered promptly and he could almost see her before his eyes, waving her hand in a dismissive gesture. "You do your job, Shinn. With General Yamato absent, I'm pretty sure you have your hands full there."

"Yeah, I know," he admitted reluctantly. "He was the one who found you, wasn't he?"

"The others said he was. I wasn't exactly conscious when it happened so I couldn't possibly know for sure myself."

Shinn exhaled a deep sigh and his eyes involuntarily glanced at Kira's door. They were – once again – treading dangerous water. "Did you meet him?" he asked, careful not to aggravate a wound which condition he was unsure of.

"Yes," Meyrin sounded undecided, although because of what he could not tell. "He is strong, isn't he?"

"Very," he mumbled, fighting down the urge to say 'too much'. Because it was what Kira really was. So inhumanely strong. So implausibly calm. Those were two qualities which he held to the highest regard, two that often he found himself lacking. It was then when something rapidly crossed his mind and he felt his eyes widen, heart racing in his chest at the sudden realization. "Meyrin, you know–"

"I only hope for the best," she cut him short almost too quickly, "and my main concern now is getting myself out of here. Boredom can shorten someone's lifespan, do you know that?"

Shinn frowned, noticing her reluctance to talk about the subject, but at the same time was relieved that they had retreated to a safer ground. He decided to follow and save the previous topic for later inspection.

"Right, how about your job?" he tried to pronounce the question as casually as possible.

"Representative Hayes has his own secretary, I believe. Maybe I'll get transferred somewhere or maybe he'll want me around to help for a while. Who knows?"

"He is a good man, right?"

"Yes, he is," Meyrin's voice was tight and Shinn wondered if he had made a wrong turn somewhere. "He is a very decent man, and very capable too in my opinion. And Shinn, I need to remind you that you are currently depleting ORB's military budget by making this call."

"I'm using my own phone," he defended himself, adding just a little hurt to let her know that he _was_ indeed hurt by that suggestion.

Meyrin's chuckle reverberated through the line. "Why didn't that surprise me," she remarked lightly before her voice once more taking on a more sincere nature. "I miss you too, Shinn. Come and visit me as soon as all of this is over, okay?"

He found his throat suddenly too tight to produce a sound as Meyrin plunged into a detailed narrative of what she felt they would have to do once he was there. Even with only half of his attention listening, he could tell what she was describing. Moments of the past – visiting an ice cream stall near the PLANT Council Building, cruising around the lake with a hoodless car, treating her to a large slice of chocolate-frosted cake – because PLANT's Council Building had been Athrun's office and the hoodless car had been Athrun's car and the cake had usually come from Athrun's fridge. They had been his moments and now, in some twisted way, his presence had been ripped out of the pictures.

Meyrin left him to pick up the fallen pieces and Shinn didn't know what to make of it. If he tried to reach out and touch them, would they vanish?

"Okay, Shinn?"

Her voice woke him up from his zealous self-blaming. He blinked the fogginess out of his eyes and quickly assumed a voice of mock seriousness, "Your wish is my command, milady."

The lively sound of Meyrin's laughter ended their conversation. Shinn put his cell phone down on the desk, smiling a little but also feeling a good deal more exhausted than he had during those sleepless nights of hating himself. It hadn't been as awful as he had feared, but he wasn't really sure if it served for a celebration or the complete opposite. Meyrin sounded almost... normal and that very fact bugged him very much.

He would have preferred an outright tongue-lashing Luna had unreservedly given him. At least it would take the confusing part out. And the worried too, in that matter. Forgiveness was an arcane issue because it looked so damn nice that it scared him most of the time. Shinn knew how hard it was to forgive and the fact that others could do it for him only swelled the whole arcane-ness of the problem because _knock knock, are you sane? Do you know how stupid it is to forgive someone who killed the man you love – or your precious one for fifteen years in certain someone's case? Because I think you must be FUCKING OUT OF YOUR MIND!_

Because he knew for certain what he would do if someone dared to hurt Athrun, or Luna, or anyone whom he held dear in that matter. He would hunt that person down and tear them from limb to limb and shred every bit of bone in their body while they were still alive. In short, he would make the last minutes – preferably hours – of their life a _very_ living, breathable hell. Now, he couldn't very well perform all those rituals to himself, could he? Physically speaking of course, since he had no trouble whatsoever to do it to himself mentally and so very realistically that it surprised him the fact that he had not lost even a shred of skin. And everyone to whom he had offered the chance had neatly backed off under pretext of forgiveness.

It almost drove him insane.

And if in the end he discovered that those who forgave him had not really forgiven him... well, Shinn had always known himself to be a hardy fool, but he didn't think that he could live with that fact ringing in his head.

Thus we arrived at the second issue.

How could he possibly know if _that_ wasn't the problem? Meyrin was very kind, and although he doubted her to be bitching about him and his stupidity behind his back, there was virtually no way he could find out the true degree of sincerity of her forgiveness without losing a head or two. Which, of course, he wouldn't mind in the slightest if that statement was true to its denotation, but he was starting to speak – and think – in metaphors and the ridiculous amount of paradoxical words and incomprehensible lexis could make him lose another head, which was a metaphor again because...

Shinn buried his head in his arms with a strangled, almost sob-like moan. Girls were ambiguous creatures. And while he was at it, he could as well admit that all his endeavours to gain the tiniest bit of comprehension on what they could have actually felt while they were sending out all of these contradictory signals had ended in utter failure. He really would have preferred his own sex. Even Athrun was much easier to understand – although there had been times when he was about to rip his hair out because _how dare you do something like that, you asshole, can't you see that you have guns pointed to your head on regular basis and that someone will probably slit his throat if anything happens to you and most likely I will follow after doing those rituals I've mentioned above but of course you don't care right because you're the great Athrun Zala and justice itself and you think that humanity worth everything and I– argh!_ _This is so stupid!_

He could almost hear the dry, witty rejoinder in his head and despite everything, Shinn felt himself smiling in response. It still hurt to think about Athrun but he no longer avoided the thought like a plague. The pain had somewhat numbed, slowly but surely since he couldn't help but to encounter the same face, the same voice every time he worked on the shuttle's case, and he kept wishing every time he opened his eyes that it would be real, that the voice would speak to him in its real presence, not only a fantasy of his weary grey cells.

Kira had told him not to bury himself in self-reproach but Shinn was very, very good at being stubborn, yes.

He sighed and grabbed the newspaper that had fallen off his desk somewhere during his phone call. As much as it was impossible for him to find solace in the news – it seemed like nothing was able to satisfy the lust of every journalist around this galaxy but Athrun, the shuttle, PLANT, Athrun and Athrun again – at least, there were _real_ words to read. He was getting very, very vexed with imaginary words running about in his head.

The front page was mostly filled with an enormously lengthy update of _the_ search, which he knew for certain suffered a rather nonexistent development, and the news of the election for the temporary chairman of PLANT Supreme Council. Disinclined to waste any second on both, he turned to the next page which contained local news from a small storm that upset neighboring fishermen to the launching of a new weather satellite. He passed everything with a mere glance until page six, where he stumbled upon a very small, barely-five-paragraphs report on the investigation of the murders involving the three council members.

Right. _The_ Murders. Amidst the maelstrom, he almost forgot about the dreadful fate befalling those people merely two weeks ago. And so did the world, it would seem, if the size of the news were any implication. He skimmed over the news quickly and, finding nothing of significance, moved on to the next page.

After a few minutes of shuffling and yawning, Shinn arrived to the conclusion that no other section could rouse his interest. The only news he wanted to read about was the one he would have undoubtedly heard from the Head Representative first-hand if it indeed happened. Or taking Kira's overly nice nature into account, he would have already received a phone call from the general himself.

Ignoring the third section of the newspaper, Shinn folded the paper and carelessly threw it onto the pile of paperwork on his desk. He had nothing against sport. In fact, sports would interest him greatly if he had no graver things in mind and unfortunately he did at the moment. That fact, in itself, would hardly hinder him to read about sports because _goddamnit_ he really needed to waste his time somehow until his aide arrived with the result of his investigation this afternoon and he was already sick of thinking about the stupid shuttle. But crammed together with the sport news in the third section was the obituary and at the moment, Shinn Asuka avoided everything which bore even the remotest relation to death with a single-minded passion.

He had seen worse in his dreams – with blood, gore, torn limbs and stuff – but a mere piece of paper with the word 'dead' and 'Athrun Zala' strung together managed to evoke the same horror in him. It didn't matter how. If Athrun was dead, then he was dead and anything else hardly mattered to Shinn.

Except the ritual part, of course.

 _But_ _Meyrin is still alive,_

a part of his mind reminded him and another answered mockingly, _living like hell, you mean,_ and Shinn couldn't help but to agree because wasn't it true? Meyrin had not said it but he had been _truly_ , almost-numbingly scared that she would have asked the question.

_Shinn, why aren't I dead too?_

If she had, he might have answered, _well, why don't we just kill each other right now?_

As sick as it sounded, he was serious. Luckily she hadn't and the scenario was put aside neatly. In a way, he was grateful because there was a promise he had made and to keep it, he needed to be very much alive.

The door to his office was barged open and his officemate strode in with a very pissed off look on his face.

"That old man is gone at last," Lieutenant General Fllaga growled in his most menacing tone of voice. Shinn raised his eyebrows at this. Was it just him or his current mind work apparently wasn't only suffering a case of metaphor but also hyperbolism?

"Who? The ambassador from the South African Union?"

Fllaga slammed his cap onto his desk and made a face at him. "No, the janitor from your apartment. Yes, of course it was the almighty ambassador from the South African Union! That man drives me mad. The meeting should be about an economic agreement but he kept mentioning about the shuttle incident. You know, I begin to suspect if this is enough of a blackmail material for us." At this point, Shinn began to open his mouth, which attempt was cut off brusquely by the other man. "Oh no, you don't. We're together in this, for better or worse, and don't you dare say a word about it."

He frowned. They didn't allow him to apologize and it frustrated him to no end. He was not fond of apologizing – his pride had made sure of it – but sometimes, _sometimes_ it was worse to just be forgiven so easily because...

Shinn sighed in defeat, suppressing his frustration as low as he could. Best not to go into that rant again, better for the health of every party involved.

"Don't worry, leave it to Cagalli," Fllaga's voice was reassuring and irritating at the same time.

Shinn massaged his temple and threw a weary glance at the older man. "Was she doing alright?"

The impatient note was quick to return into the older man's voice. "More than alright, though there were times when I wanted to wring that god-awful man's neck because he kept cutting her statements. But you know Cagalli. She would never allow herself to be pulverized."

"I can imagine that," he replied dryly, inwardly congratulating himself on a work well done. Spreading his waspish personality wasn't that hard obviously, although one might want to take a moment to admit that this was the person he spent most of his working hours with.

Seating himself behind his desk, Mwu relieved himself from one or two tight buttons and looked across the room at him. "So what were you doing all morning while I was dealing with the great ambassador? And why are these documents on my desk?" he waved toward the enormous stack of paper with something akin to desperation.

"It's your share of paperwork. I've finished mine during _the_ aforementioned morning," Shinn answered with a smirk.

"Inconsiderate brat," amusement crept into the other man's voice at last and Shinn just _had to_ widen his smirk. "It's never too late to start piling good deeds, but of course you prefer to watch me suffer. By the way, the Kingdom of Scandinavia contacted us about the security for the summit in November."

This time, it took a frown out of him.

"I thought it was an internal problem."

"It used to be, but with recent developments, they also felt the need to inform us that taking a good care of our representative is our own responsibility in the end," Fllaga said and looked away in distaste as he began to scan through the first document. "Not that the warning is necessary though. With what happened to PLANT, I doubt anyone would attempt a less-than-high security level."

Shinn felt a headache starting to writhe inside his head. His workmate was right. The world had not been exactly at peace after the murders, let alone after the shuttle incident. Suspicion was endemic and except for a nation which had lost three council members and a chairman, ORB suffered the greatest blow, especially in the term of trust and good name.

Once again – though it could change nothing at this point – he would gladly sell his soul if he could turn back time and prevent Athrun going into that shuttle.

Resisting another urge to sink into a passionate tirade about why he shouldn't exist, Shinn leant deeper into his chair and tapped a finger on his desk to cover his uneasiness. "Then Kira will be the escort, won't he?"

The other man shrugged. "Not sure, but it's likely. We can't trust anyone less. Cagalli will have to be in the best of hands and you know very well what an international conference can turn out into."

Of course. He had been fourteen when the _Tragedy of Copernicus_ had happened and while munching his dinner away happily, had learned about it and Chairman Clyne's providential escape from the evening news. It didn't concern him or his family so he hadn't actually given a damn, but he remembered his father saying that he was grateful they were living in the neutral ORB. Shinn snorted at the thought. Well, at least he had gotten over that part. And Cagalli's reign wasn't exactly free from life-threatening incidents either, so yes, he was familiar with what those worldwide affairs could turn out into.

"Kira contacted her this morning," Fllaga spoke again, not raising his eyes from the paper. "He said he would return in two days."

That statement dropped a bomb onto his head. "They are giving up?"

His colleague sent him an uncomfortable look. "It's all in the news at PLANT. Giving up is not the word though. Chairman Hayes promised another party to continue the search, even if it will undoubtedly be smaller."

"That's bullshit!" He suddenly bellowed and slammed his fist to the desk, shooting to his feet. "Another party? A find-his-body team? If that son of a bitch wants to be the goddamn chairman, he may as well say so!"

"We don't–"

"It's so _fucking_ obvious!"

"Shinn."

The low, stern, one-word reprimand managed to get his attention and he stared, fuming, at the calm face of Mwu la Fllaga.

"Have you eaten yet?"

For a long moment, he could only open and close his jaw repeatedly in a very fishlike manner until another vein popped in his head and he burst out, incredulous, "And you're talking about eating right now? Are you drugged or something?"

"We cannot do anything about this," the older man informed him, still with that god-awful calmness that made Shinn want to stomp his way across the room and hit him with a coatrack. "You may think it's wrong or unfair but the Supreme Council has a valid excuse. They need their men and honestly, Shinn, we also need our general. Things have started going out of our hands without him and you know it."

"He won't be our general if he comes back now," Shinn snarled viciously. "He will be a miserable broken man with a hell to live in because a fucking brainless idiot has ripped his lover from his side!"

"That's why we need to be there to support him!" For the first time Fllaga raised his voice, loud enough that it made the younger man wince. "No one can go through this alone! Not him and obviously not you! God, Shinn, I don't know why the hell you're being so stupid! We have been through this already!"

"But they're giving up!"

At this point, Fllaga had also stood up furiously, his pen clenched tightly between white fingers. "They can do what they want but don't you dare to forget that Kira is _not_ giving up! Cagalli is not! Lacus is not and I'll personally thrash you until next year if you say that you've given up!"

Shinn didn't answer and they stood motionless, glaring at each other across the room. The words hurt him. Because Meyrin was right – it was painful to keep hoping. The fear was still out there, prowling in the darkness and ready to pounce at the first given chance because all it needed was a four-letter word.

_Dead._

Shinn shuddered at the thought but Fllaga's fierce gaze didn't let him to back down. There was something in his eyes, a desperate hope maybe, and it called out to him like a plea for help. Perhaps something stronger, something less pitiful, but whatever it was, it wasn't as if he could back down in the first place. Shinn almost laughed. Yes, he was in it, together with them.

For better or worse.

He huffed and sat down, muttering, "I'm not giving up."

"Then don't go ballistic over something like that," Fllaga retorted, imitating him to reclaim his seat and the ground was once again neutral. "It's painful for us all and it's Kira who suffers the most, remember that."

"He's still so calm about it," Shinn continued mumbling. "Something is definitely wrong with that guy."

Fllaga let out a sound that very much resembled a snort. "That doesn't mean you can have his share of shouting and yelling and generally making me want to throw this paperweight at you," he said, said object suddenly appearing between his fingers. "You know why, Shinn."

"Yes," he admitted heavily. "It's still not human though."

"We'll see when he's back, and then you can yell at him as you please," Fllaga replied with a tone that clearly said to leave the matter at that. "Now, have you eaten?"

Shinn rolled his eyes, feeling marginally annoyed by the older man's persistence to fuss over him. "It's eleven in the morning," he stated matter-of-factly and got on his feet. "I'm going to take a walk for a minute. Contact me if anything comes up."

If he thought that Fllaga would give the whole lunch issue a rest, he would be the stupidest being in the universe, stupider than an ass and its stupider offspring because even an ass would _not_ fall into the same hole twice. Shinn found himself thinking somewhere along that line when the other man's voice rose again in the background.

"Have lunch with me at one?"

He turned around, a painful smile on his lips. "Your treat?"

It must be a grimace that crossed Fllaga's face. "Opportunist little punk."

Shinn smirked. At least he won that.

He sauntered outside, relieved to welcome the bright and warm sunlight to clear his head. What was that again? Right, Athrun. And the new bastard-turned-chairman who stopped the search. He had always thought that Hayes was a good man – young and ambitious and rather impatient in the side perhaps, but a good man nonetheless. And wasn't he supposed to be one of Athrun's most fixated supporters?

But he had to admit that Fllaga was right – and the reasons he had pointed out were so sickeningly reasonable that nothing could challenge the degree of rightness of his logic. But to keep hoping after they stopped the search? Shinn knew of miracles, but even he wasn't that stupid to think that whoever watching above was bestowing the m-word so liberally.

What about Kira then, he found himself wondering. He had been griping about Meyrin, but Kira? His colleague had said it clearly himself. If there was anyone who had been hurt the most, it was Kira. _But._ But the general had smiled at him and told him to keep hoping. Shinn wondered if it hadn't been only an attempt Kira had made to convince himself, because wasn't it supposed to be him who was hurt the most?

_It was painful to keep hoping._

Of course. They were hoping of the nigh-impossible, the most unattainable hope among hopes, and to him, it almost felt like deceiving himself.

And then something struck him. _Of course._ How could he be so _intolerably_ stupid? It had _always_ been painful to hope, painful because the outcome was never certain. In everything, everywhere, to hope when you realized that you could be wounded by the result in the end was always painful. And Kira didn't surrender to that pain, it was as simple as that.

At that moment, Shinn understood the word 'shame'.

The breath he took in was shaky and he didn't notice a group of officers who had just turned around the corner and immediately saluted in the most correct manner at the mere sight of him. He walked passed them, currently blind to anything else but the sudden revelation in his head.

So that was the big deal of being stronger, Shinn felt himself smiling wryly. And he had thought that Kira was some sort of heaven-sent warrior because he possessed those unearthly superiorities no normal man should. There was no secret recipe. Just that. Never surrender to pain.

He closed his eyes and sighed deeply. If it was pain, he felt like he could take more than the world could ever challenge with. Kira did that, Cagalli did that. Hell, even Fllaga did that. There was really no reason that he couldn't. He would keep hoping. So what if the fall was going to be farther or harder when the hope turned out to be false? That was the other side of the coin. He simply had to pray that he got the right one.

Shinn was good at being stubborn, wasn't he?

The day had suddenly become brighter and friendlier. Armed with the desire to protect everything and support everyone, he continued his wandering toward the fountain in front of the Cabinet Building. Reflecting the sunlight, the magnificent structure was a sight to see and he found himself smiling as he bent down, tasting the coolness with his fingers. And at that moment something interesting happened – or in a better explanation, a succession of extraordinary, completely unforeseen, subsequently mind-numbing happenings.

First, he stopped walking. Second, a group of important-looking people emerged and passed by – _ignored_ him like he was some kind of generic lamppost on the sidewalk. Third, Representative Athha, who apparently was leading said group, noticed his presence. Fourth, she gave him a very tiny, very fleeting smile, but otherwise did not show any sign of being able to distinguish him from a lamppost. Fifth, he felt like the ground below his feet had opened and his footing was nowhere to be found.

Clouds inched away slowly, the sun climbed to its highest throne, birds and butterflies fluttered past him and the clock was generally ticking away. He stood there long after the company had disappeared behind a door somewhere, rooted to the spot, letting the content of his stomach do acrobatics as they saw fit.

His first not-so-coherent thought was: _What the hell was that?_

His second very coherent, perfectly rational thought was: _I will look stupid if I continue standing here and gaping like an idiot_ , and so he looked away, shook his head incredulously and continued his aimless wandering. The mobile suit training ground looked like a wonderful place to visit next. Perhaps a sparring and a little sweat could clear his head and calm his rebellious stomach, although without Kira, there was scarcely anyone who could hold an even ground with him.

As for now, there were only three conclusions he could make of his condition.

His first deduction after the intricate and very complex process of thinking was: There was something infinitely wrong with him.

His second deduction almost immediately after was: maybe he had not been eating right, or maybe the milk he had drunk this morning while half-asleep was way past its expired date. Bad milk could really upset one's stomach as personal experiences had taught him.

His third deduction was: There was no third deduction, because any allusion to subject A being interested to subject B was a perfect laughing material and thoroughly ridiculous and thus ought to be shunned with the utmost repulsion.

Contented with the second – and apparently final – deduction, Shinn turned around and retraced his way back to his office, eager to force Fllaga into training and have a promise kept in the shape of a sumptuous five-course lunch.

  
_**End Chapter 10  
** _


	11. Dearka - End of a Beginning

  
" _A colony?"_

Dearka glanced at his temporary superior warily. Yzak Jule was using a tone of voice which announced to everyone who knew him well that it wouldn't be long before another bundle of patience was burned to ashes and oh yes, you were definitely going to have a taste of hell's own wrath unless you got your ass out of here on the next millisecond.

But despite the mental alarm going off in his head, the white-haired commander only narrowed his eyes, his voice lowering into a dangerous growl, "Aren't we supposed to know the area around here like the back of our hand?"

The private who brought in the report visibly cowered. "It was reported as abandoned a few years ago, Sir," his voice was shaky and he almost whimpered when Yzak Jule made an impatient noise. "B-but some activities have been detected from the colony, Sir, and the guys– I'm very sorry, Sir, I mean the other gu– uh, officers felt that it might be of importance and so–"

"Very well," Yzak waved an irritated hand. "I'll get down later and see it for myself. You're dismissed."

The terrified private practically ran for his life and Dearka smothered a pitying smile.

"And this comes up when we're just about to wrap up," his friend muttered irritably, a mighty frown wrinkling his brow. He tapped a finger on his chin and turned to Dearka. "What do you think?"

"I say we check it out. It isn't as if a simple recon mission will take much of our remaining time," he pointed out. "And who knows what we may find there. Maybe nothing, but it's better than leaving an itching scrape."

Dearka could almost see the wheels and locks in his friend's head clicking into place. Yzak nodded, undoubtedly getting what he carefully left unvoiced, and moved on to technicalities. "It will be a four-man team and you and I will be in it," he said, his blue eyes staring off to the dark space. "We're moving out in one hour. I'll announce the rest of the group later. Get as much information as possible about this abandoned colony before we leave. I want to know who lived there, who owned it, why they abandoned the colony, _why the hell_ we labeled it as abandoned, everything you can get your fingers on."

"Aye, Sir," he suppressed another smile which quickly vanished when a particular problem popped up in his mind and reminded him of its existence. Dearka sighed, but fired the question nevertheless. "Should we tell _him_?"

The frown deepened. "He's bound to know sooner or later," his superior muttered, his reluctance as plain as the day. "Where is he?"

"Sleeping," Dearka pointed at the general direction of the crew's quarters with his thumb. It wasn't as if he didn't understand. After all, he was the one who had tirelessly continued to sweet-talk –sometimes downright threaten – the ORB general to allow himself at least a blink of sleep. Inhaling a deep breath, he prepared himself for a long angry tirade which might follow his determination to approach the delicate problem, and surrendered himself to fate by reminding his friend kindly, "But he'll be dangerously pissed off if you don't include him in the recon party."

The look on Yzak's face was bordering on terrifying, as was his tone of voice. "So? We can always say that his health should come first. He hasn't slept for days, damnit."

Dearka smirked painfully. "We? You do that, I'm outta here. If you want to poke at the lion's eyes, not to mention a very easily aggravated lion at the moment, you can have all my blessings but do carry the mission out alone." They fell silent and once he was certain that his superior had seen the gravity of his words, continued gently, "You do know that it may mean more than a reconnaissance, don't you?"

Obviously Commander Jule understood. Still, it was very hard for him to admit defeat, which resulted in a very angry, almost unintelligible growl. "Alright, asshole. You wake him up."

Grinning, Dearka left to carry out the mission. He made a stop at the bridge to have some privates do the data search for him, repeating his friend's order word by word. He suppressed a grin as the junior officers scuttled off to start finding the desired information. Yzak ran his ship with iron fist, which often scared new recruits and made them regret their decision to ever join ZAFT already in their first night. The older ones generally knew that the golden rule was never to upset him and thus steered clear from his way to avoid stepping on his toe.

It still worried him sometimes. Dearka knew that there were very few people who could actually hold a decent conversation with the white-haired commander without losing their nerves somewhere during the first few sentences. Said people were usually those who had known him since the academy and unfortunately, most of them were already dead. The military wasn't exactly a place to maintain a long-term relationship. He winced, realizing that Yzak was on the verge of losing another friend. As much as he claimed to hate Athrun, Dearka was near impossible to deceive when it concerned his best friend.

He sighed and left the bridge. Rusty, Miguel, Nicol. And now Athrun. No wonder that Yzak had that I'm-gonna-find-him-or-die-trying attitude during their nine-day search together. Kira's persistence was outrageous but Yzak was also doing his damnadest to match the ORB General and between the two of them, Dearka was left nursing a very nasty headache. He was their balancer, their common sense – their babysitter, for god's sake – and maybe also their alarm clock. For one thing, he knew Yzak like the back of his hand and to recognize which button to push to drag his best friend to bed or force him to eat came as natural as breathing to him.

Kira, on the other hand, was a different matter entirely.

Dearka found himself in debate with some other part of his mind as he floated silently in front of the general's door. He was inclined to make use of the intercom, because who knows what Kira might do if he came barging into his room unannounced. Despite obviously being more than a little tired, he had long suspected that the amount of stamina that man stored in his body was far from normal, but decided that it was best to test his theory some other time.

The other part, however, reasoned that it would be at least thoughtful of him to choose a less obnoxious method than shouting when Kira had just been sleeping hardly for three hours. Call it silly compassion, but Dearka could feel himself slowly but surely submitting to it.

Preparing himself for any undesirable outcome, he pressed the button to open the door and stepped in. The room was dark, the only source of light available from the hallway whence he came from. He blinked to adjust his eyes and called out tentatively.

"Kira?"

Nothing short of a horror movie, he belatedly noticed a pair of eyes in the darkness and almost started, the scream he felt building stuck in his throat. The general was already sitting on the bed, watching him with bleary eyes which looked eerily luminous and sinister in the dim environment but otherwise not responding. Dearka cleared his throat, calming his palpitating heart, and asked, awkward, "You're awake?"

Something obscured the eyes from his sight and he figured that it might be Kira's hand wiping the sleep away. "Yes," the voice was gruff but not sleepy. Dearka found himself wishing that the ORB General didn't always try to surprise him in various ways, most of them very detrimental to his health and state of mind.

"Okay," he responded, not knowing what else to say.

"The light please, Dearka," Kira requested politely.

"Oh, right." He quickly fumbled around for the switch he knew to be somewhere close to the door. Both of them were blinking furiously as light flooded the room. Kira, sitting on the narrow bed with the lower half of his body covered by a flimsy sheet, was a sight that almost made Dearka wince. The visible part of his body was all tense muscles – or what left of them, courtesy to scarce eating and too little rest – and even his two laid, empty hands seemed, despite their state, ready to knock someone senseless, probably something they had just been about to do before the intruder had announced his presence.

"Did you get any sleep?" he asked at last.

"I did," the other man answered, fingers slowly massaging his right temple. "Did anything happen?"

"It's one of the CIC guys," Dearka explained as carefully as possible. "He detected some activities in a supposedly-abandoned colony. Yzak wants to check it out and I'm here just to let you know."

All of a sudden, the violet eyes that were staring at him were no longer hazed by sleep. "Can I come?"

Ever so polite. But Dearka only knew to well what lay beneath that politeness. A will of iron – or perhaps adamantine – because Kira Yamato would get what he wanted. He sighed and answered reluctantly, "You have to speak to him."

The general nodded and rose to his feet. "Alright."

Dearka watched as the other man reached for his folded clothes and started to dress himself, a frown creasing his brow. Wills of adamantine or not, it was a fact that Kira had only had three hours to sleep in the last four days, if he counted them right. He had been constantly out therein Freedom, coming back once a day at best and that only after Dearka had demanded him to return because no one should survive with granola bars if he could get a better meal. Dearka didn't like it, didn't like the thought that his friend was probably bleeding in the inside and there was no one by his side to remind him that no, he was not alone. There were others who shared his pain, who understood what losing Athrun really meant to him.

He still remembered how he had been introduced to the fact. It had been only several months since he had been removed from the Jule squad and one day he had gotten a call from his former commander. Apparently his friend, never one to consider knocking when his temper got the better of him and especially not when it considered their blue-haired chairman, had just walked in on what appeared to be a very hot, very thorough make-out session and Yzak, quite obviously distraught by the view he had just witnessed, had called him and only realized how ridiculous his reaction had been after Dearka had outright laughed at him.

He had had his suspicions, yes, but Yzak, of course, had remained oblivious until the ultimate fact appeared grinning under his nose. But despite his extreme initial reaction, the commander had not raised any comment afterward except remember to lock the door, damnit. It was one of the things Dearka liked about his blunt, sharp-tongued friend.

But to know was also a burden in a way. There were territories he knew he should not trespass and the knowledge sometimes stopped him from reminding the general what he should do. After all, what did he know about love? The only relationship he had ever been engaged in was with Miriallia and it hadn't lasted long enough to let him know that he had tasted what love was like, not a mere teenage attraction. What he didn't know daunted him, slowing his steps, and only the conviction that Kira would do the same for him kept him going.

And now, looking at the dark circles under his friend's eyes, the same conviction pushed him to say something and go to hell with everything else.

"You really should be sleeping," he heard himself declaring.

"I'm alright, I already slept," Kira answered in the middle of buttoning up his shirt.

Dearka stared hard into a pair of calm violet eyes and knew that it was already way past arguing at this point. Kira Yamato would get what he wanted. He had no choice but to suppress a sigh and admit defeat.

"I'll have someone bring you food."

"It's okay, I can get them myself," the general said and shot him a little smile. "Relax, Dearka, I know how to take care of myself."

"Yeah, in a way I totally cannot approve," he muttered under his breath and snorted when a quiet chuckle rose behind him. _What, extensive hearing too?_ _This guy is getting increasingly abnormal with each second._

"See you at the bridge then," he waved and drifted to his own room, ignoring a voice in the back of his mind which asked timidly _didn't that laugh sound just a little too thin?_

Since a recon mission was never quick to finish, he decided to change his shirt in case something undesirable happened and the mission dragged even longer. And this particular one might be tricky if the information proved to be right. Clandestine activities had never meant a good thing, like what ORB had done in Heliopolis, and he still had to suppress a shudder if he recollected what had happened following the discovery of five mobile suits being built in secret there. It was irony, a wicked twist of fate that had brought him in custody and eventually met Miriallia and then Kira Yamato. They taught him to think, because who knows, the people who issued orders for him probably were not in the right state of mind themselves. It was one thing to be loyal, but it was another to merely be a pawn.

It was Athrun who especially taught him that. Going against an old friend who later turned out to be a long-lost love must be much painful than he could imagine, but then again, he could hardly blame his blue-haired teammate when the other obvious choice had been going against a father who unfortunately was sitting at the top of the hierarchy and had personally ordered him to shoot that damn legged ship. Looking at his friend, Dearka couldn't help but to feel angry at the world. And he hadn't been that close to Athrun at that moment.

But those times of conflicts had been over. The victors, if they indeed could be called that, did take the meaning of thinking and deciding for themselves to the extreme, he reflected dryly. Athrun chaired the Supreme Council, the blonde princess reigned at ORB, one of the most powerful countries on Earth, Lacus-sama keeping both Naturals and Coordinators in check, and Kira generally scared off everyone who had any evil intention. It was perfect, although the word 'totalitarianism' repeatedly popped up in his mind.

Well, who was he to protest? It _was_ perfect. Everything had been going on smoothly, but then this happened.

"Dearka, where the hell are you?"

He winced at the loud, _annoyed_ voice which suddenly reverberated in his room and turned at the intercom. He switched on the display and his commander's cross face appeared on screen.

"Anything comes up?" he quickly asked before a tsunami of angry words could descend upon him.

"It's confirmed," Yzak snapped and Dearka kept another wince at bay. "There really are activities in that damn colony. At least there were, two days ago. How come we have just noticed today?"

"Well, we have our focus concentrated on the search and two days ago we were covering a different area, weren't we?" he reasoned, half-soothing his friend. "At least now we know for sure."

Yzak fell silent, apparently seeing the sense in his words, but the frown remained on his face. When he spoke again, his voice was a little distant, as if he was reluctant to approach the subject.

"Have you talked to him?"

"Yeah," Dearka nodded, sighing. "I've tried to talk him out of it but he wants to go – not that he'll listen to me in the first place anyway. You may expect him any moment now."

"Like I don't know that," his friend growled but his eyes mirrored the same desperation.

No one spoke for a moment, Yzak probably too busy mourning over the prospect of facing Kira and him quietly thinking about the colony and the mission they would soon embark on. Not exactly a recon mission. He had said that but even then, the doubt had been there, gnawing his insides with its sharp claws. Kira was almost blind with worry and anguish that he saw everything as a small flicker of hope. And this colony, this one last chance that had decided to come up when everything already seemed as black as death, if this was another false lead... well, Dearka didn't know how many times a guy– even one as extraordinary as Kira Yamato – could remain intact after repeatedly falling from that high pedestal of hope, but even he was bound to have his limit somewhere.

"This can turn out serious," he finally voiced his anxiety.

"Can? It _will_ turn out serious, damnit," Yzak snapped, his voice rising. "Someone does something here in space and PLANT doesn't know? When I meet those National Defense idiots again, I swear I'll shove their whole computer system down their throat."

"You have contacted them?"

The commander made a slighting sound at the back of his throat. "The same crap. It has been abandoned for years and all those. They know abso- _fucking_ -lutely nothing."

Which was to be expected, Dearka reflected dryly. If the higher-ups did know something about it, with their work area being so close to the colony, they would have been notified. Which also meant that Yzak had made a perfectly valid point. How was it even _possible_ that PLANT didn't know about it?

"But there's no mistaking the activity?"

"Of course not," Yzak shot him a murderous look for second-guessing his statement. "I saw it with my own eyes. Our automatic defense system got the visual but for some stupid reasons failed to inform the CIC until their periodic checking. There was something like an explosion and there were shadows like ships leaving the colony – the distance couldn't make it clearer. I've asked around but no one admitted sending any ship anywhere near there. An inquiry has also been sent to other countries but the replies can take a while."

Dearka hid a grim smile. If the clandestine nature of the activity was any indication, he was doubtful an honest answer would be given by the responsible party but chose to keep the opinion to himself for the moment. "What do you think it is?" he asked, trying to sound casual. "The headquarter of a separatist group?"

"If I already know, we won't be going out to find out, idiot," Yzak retorted, rolling his eyes. "And explain to me, what are you doing in your room? Have you got the damn information?"

"In the process," Dearka hurriedly answered and was about to give a further explanation about his apparently unacceptable location when Yzak held up one hand, deterring him from continuing, and turned to his left.

"Who is it?" he called out.

A faint but perfectly clear voice joined their conversation from – he presumed – the other side of Yzak's door. "Kira Yamato, Sir."

The commander's face contorted into a painful expression and Dearka, grinning from ear to ear, quickly wished his friend the best of lucks before terminating the line. Dealing with Kira's strong – hard, solid, unbreakable, whatever – will was always a problematic business and he absolutely had no intention in involving himself for the second time in a row on the same day. That was simply too much for him, especially if he had to exert himself later during the mission. If Yzak and Kira were determined to behave as recklessly as they had these past few days, he could count on it.

The green digital number at the down-left corner of the display told him that it was almost nine in the morning – not that it made any difference to the condition outside. The search mission should be officially stopped on twelve, he recalled with a twinge of regret. He really wanted to find Athrun, but coping with a high-strung Yzak and a depressed-almost-suicidal Kira didn't make his attempt any more enjoyable than it already was. Heaving a sigh, Dearka left his room and headed for the bridge.

The officers he had given the task to were still huddled in front of their monitor when he arrived, looking bored if nothing else. That could pretty much sum up their search result, he thought to himself dejectedly.

"Are we done here?" he asked briskly, proceeding toward the group.

They immediately sobered up at the sound of his voice and the one nearest to him answered quickly, "Almost nothing, Sir, and what little we can get are mostly old stuffs. There are project reports, but everything concludes with the fact that the project itself was eventually stopped. The colony is really abandoned as far as the data is concerned."

Frowning but scarcely expecting anything more, Dearka loomed over the monitor. "Let me take a look."

That much was at least true, he was forced to admit when he scanned through the files they were able to put their hands on. The colony was supposed to be abandoned, deserted, dumped, inhabitable, whatever the word was. Before he went any far however, Dearka made sure to watch the recording himself in case, just _in case_ Yzak had been just a little too eager about paying a visit to the colony. To his disappointment, the commander hadn't been seeing things. The explosion did happen, as well as the fleeing fleets.

Another idea formed in his head while he delved even deeper into the files. It had been there all along, fermenting under his consciousness, but in front of the glaring fact that there was no information about the activity – or whatever importance the colony held that such explosion had to happen – the idea made its presence clear to him.

Someone was, once again, trying to stir the concoction of peace they all had tried to preserve until now. It was definitely an explosion, not a natural occurrence like an asteroid colliding with the satellite or something like that. And what about those ships leaving the colony? Was it the people who had caused the explosion? Or were they actually trying to escape the explosion?

Dearka frowned. It was another thing he had to discuss with his friend.

He had just finished summing up the data when Yzak, who had changed into his white pilot suit, entered the bridge, followed by Kira. The white-haired commander looked mightily pissed and Dearka could guess at once what the outcome of their earlier discussion was. Well, not that it was unforeseen. He would be very surprised if it had ended with anything else but.

"Get Vino Dupre up here, wherever he is," he snapped toward a nearby operator who had shrunk in his seat at the voice full of wrath. "Tell him to prepare for a mission. Full pilot suit and side arms. And tell the head of mechanics to come here too."

Dearka, who was still holding the print-outs of data, was his next glaring object. "A briefing in three minutes. You cannot answer one of my questions and you're dead."

Despite a severe urge to wince and say one or two smart things in return, Dearka managed to give his superior an anguished smile. He could as well try to be supportive now that Yzak had plunged into one of his worst moods. They really didn't need more temper tantrums right now.

It was not long until a young man with bright orange hair and boyish face, probably not more than eighteen, barged into the room breathlessly. This must be the pilot, Dearka thought to himself, noticing the unruly hair and disheveled appearance with a hidden little smile. Voltaire had a total of nine pilots including Yzak and himself and dividing his time between covering his search area and babysitting his two friends, Dearka had not exactly had the chance to make new acquaintances. This young man was one of those he sometimes noticed but never actually spoken with.

"Vino Dupre, pilot, reporting, Sir," the newly-arrived quickly saluted.

Yzak nodded wordlessly and signaled for the young man to wait next to Kira, a position which was accepted with obvious discomfort. Dearka hid another smile when he saw the general attempting a conversation and pretty much only managed to awe the younger pilot even more. The hassle to be a living myth, he thought in amusement before making his way toward the awkward pair.

"Have you been with Commander Jule for long?" he heard Kira asking.

"Four or five months, Sir," the young man quickly answered. "I have just graduated from the academy last April. I was formerly a mechanic but then– uh, it's kind of embarrassing actually, but someone inspired me to be a pilot and so I decided to give it a try."

"You were one of Minerva's crew, weren't you?" Dearka asked lightly, joining the conversation.

For a moment, the young pilot looked as if he wanted to runaway. Dearka raised his eyebrows, interested at this reaction his simple question evoked.

"Yes, Sir," finally the timid answer came.

Suppressing a wide grin, he offered his hand and said pleasantly, "I'm Dearka Elsman."

If anything, the young man looked even more terrified. He stared at the extended hand with something like horror crossed with disbelief, before quickly sobered up and raised his own hand to a light shake. "Yes, of course, Sir– uh, I mean it's an honor. Vino Dupre, Sir."

Dearka was in the verge of pointing out to the younger man that except for having known their commander longer than probably everyone but his mother, he was currently just a pilot assisting the Voltaire in the search, when an idea waltzed into his mind. Perhaps he was enjoying this a little too much, he thought with a guilty grin, but proceeded to execute the idea nevertheless.

"And this idol of yours is?"

Dupre immediately acquired a blush on his face and diverted his eyes to his boots. "Well, Sir, it's an established fact that all of us – the students, I mean – are greatly inspired by General Yamato and Chairman Zala, also you and Commander Jule. I mean, to save the world is just... it's just too amazing for words. But the one who really made me want to be a pilot was actually an old friend of mine."

"Shinn," Kira said softly, a corresponding expression on his face.

"You know him, Sir?" the young pilot looked momentarily surprised. "Oh, but of course you do. He is working for ORB now. Yes, he was the one."

Kira nodded and was about to say something when the chief mechanic entered the room. They all straightened up as Yzak motioned for them to gather around.

"Alright," the white-haired commander started the briefing, addressing his whole crew. "Listen, everyone. I know that PLANT ordered us to withdraw at twelve p.m. today, but something arose and now this ship is going in a recon mission. An unusual activity has been detected this morning from an abandoned colony nearby. There is no information about such activity around here and so we are given this task to investigate the colony."

He nodded at Dearka who continued from that point with the information he had summed up. On the big screen in front of them, appeared an old picture of the colony, side by side with the image they had just retrieved this morning.

"About the colony," he began, pointing at the first picture, "it consists of two parts. The first was named Cygnusia and was originally designed by Eurasian Federation to be a resource satellite like ORB's Heliopolis. However, the usual funding problem emerged and the project was abandoned inC.E.68, one of the most obvious reasons being the escalation of conflicts between Coordinators and Naturals. The last progress report clearly stated that while most of the infrastructures had already been finished, the satellite was nowhere near habitable. Thus the abandoned label."

"They were building a colony this close to Earth?" Kira suddenly asked, sounding incredulous.

"Right," Dearka nodded, "it wasn't designed to follow the normal orbital route at the Lagrange Points, somewhat closer to Earth. As for its exact position, the original plan was to build the colony somewhere between PLANT, L1 and L3. It seemed that the Eurasian Federation was trying to find anew orbital area which was closer but also stable enough, at least more stable than L1. Of course this posed many problems, including the inflating of budget far from their initial estimation for the added research and further support even though a closer location did have its advantages."

"Beside Cygnusia, there was another satellite, a smaller one," he continued, a blueprint replacing the previous images on the screen. "It hasn't been named and throughout the project was called the Second District. Initially it was planned to act as a support to Cygnusia but halfway into the process, to reduce the cost, they decided that it was not yet necessary and so was abandoned even earlier than the first one, in C.E. 66."

"The problem is this," he gave a signal to the private who had been controlling the screen and the recording played on, leaving a graver silence than it had been at its end. Dearka heaved a long sigh and spoke again, "As we can see, there was some kind of explosion, though it isn't really clear here. And there were ships too, some of them, looking like they were leaving the colony prior to the explosion and after. It may have nothing to do with our main objectives, but considering the close distance, these activities may hold some importance that we are not yet able to see."

"And there is absolutely no doubt that both are uninhabited?" Kira asked again.

"No according to the report. But if someone continued the project without telling the world, it's an entirely different problem."

Yzak nodded and took the briefing back into his hand. "The Supreme Council has issued an order for us to investigate this colony, both satellites if necessary. I will have a small party going there for a primary inspection and the rest should wait in the ship until there are further orders. Those who will go are me, General Kira Yamato, Pilot Dearka Elsman and Pilot Vino Dupre." He paused and turned toward his second-in-command, Malik Yardbirds. "I'll leave the ship in your hand, Yardbirds."

The officer saluted. "Yes, Sir."

"There is no indication so far that this mission will escalate into something big," he continued, looking around at his present crews with sharp cerulean eyes, "but the lack of information should be enough a caution for us. It may be nothing, but we must be certain at this point because this matter concerns our chairman. Notify the rest of the crews and we'll start the mission in half-an-hour."

"Now for the pilot briefing," he turned toward the smaller group and beckoned at Yardbirds to follow the briefing. "We'll go with our usual mobile suits, but this is a recon mission, so the Mirage Colloid function is necessary." He settled a questioning gaze on Kira. "All of our mobile suits are equipped with one, but what about Freedom?"

"It has the function too," Kira answered and Dearka hid a smirk. Well, after all, this was the genius who had successfully frustrated ZAFT and the great Creuset squad with his Strike – and later Freedom. One naturally shouldn't expect less.

Yzak looked slightly disappointed but didn't pursue the subject. "Very well then," he continued, once more addressing all of them. "This is what we'll do. We'll get closer until we can see what sort of activities going on there. There should be no problem in running our communication link, so we can talk to each other normally. If we can detect nothing, we'll run sensor checks, electromagnetic field, heat and movement. We'll see what happens."

"And if there's still nothing?" Dearka heard the ORB General inquiring.

Yzak frowned. "I don't like the idea of us going down there, but if it's really necessary, I guess we have to do it. But if it's too dangerous, we will retreat first and report to the Supreme Council. In any case, we must find out what's going on."

Kira nodded, his face betraying nothing.

"Is there anything else?" the white-haired commander asked.

"Should we announce our arrival?" Dearka spoke up. "I mean to prevent them shooting at us in case they notice our presence despite the mirage."

Again, Yzak's face developed an angry scowl. Dearka began to suspect that it had something to do with _him_ asking the question, not the question itself.

"And give them the chance to hide in their holes? No way in hell. We'll go in secret. What's the point of a recon mission anyway? Yardbirds!"

The second-in-command perked up. "Yes, Sir!"

"Move the ship nearer to the colony but stay at a reasonable distance away," Yzak barked his order. "If a combat ensues, get closer and fire a warning shot. We'll scare those sons of a bitch a little. Voltaire is a damn destroyer anyway."

"Yes, Sir!"

He looked around again, this time with a fierce look on his face. "Is there anymore question?"

His question was greeted with silence and so Yzak dismissed his ranks with an order for the pilots to assemble in the hangar in five minutes. It took Dearka only three to don his pilot suit and take care of everything else before heading to the meeting point, humming lightly to himself. It was a habit that had grown on him over the years, one his commanders often reproached him for but still couldn't get rid of. The problem was, he needed something to distract his mind from the upcoming mission and whatever which might follow. The fear, the apprehension had long since diluted by time and experiences, but the habit remained.

It wasn't to say that he was _not_ nervous about this one particular mission. Recon missions always had this unfamiliar side that whispered fear to him, but at least, he reflected, at least he was going with friends that he could trust to watch his back.

Everyone had disappeared into their own mobile suit when Dearka arrived. He followed suit and climbed to his own ZAKU, automatically running various system check and switching on the communication link, including the additional one to Freedom which had been established by the General himself once he had arrived. Everything was working properly.

"Everything's ready?" Yzak's voice came through the link.

Dearka snickered to the screen. "Yes, Commander. Everyone already goes to the toilet?"

He heard Dupre answering 'Yes, Sir!' before blushing madly and saw the small smile on Kira's face and received a death glare from his superior.

"That is _not_ funny."

"Really? And here I thought I could get a laugh out of you," he replied with a mock sigh, making a face at his friend. "You know, Commander, with the current frequency of that frown appearing on your face, your brow will acquire wrinkles in probably the next two years."

"Shut up," Yzak snarled.

"And your voice will–"

Was it that much of a surprise to see his superior's mobile suit pointing its huge firearm at him? No, probably not. Dearka shot him a harmless smile and wisely kept his mouth shut.

But what he had said was the truth. His friends had looked too serious as if they were going in a suicide mission and while he understood the importance of the mission, he couldn't help but to try lightening the situation. Sighing softly, he put on his helmet and waited for the becoming-familiar voice announcing ' _Gunner ZAKU Warrior, please launch'_.

The mission started.

No one said anything after the launch. The mobile suits party moved quietly in two files, he and Freedom at front while the rest followed not far behind. It was a sight to behold, Dearka reflected with a smile, to see the legendary mobile suit flew in all its glory. A prominent officer himself in ZAFT, he was used to first class mobile suits, but Freedom had always marked the deepest impression in him, Strike following closely in the second place. Perhaps it had something to do with him being at the other side of the line and seeing them from the eyes of an enemy, but an incontestable fact remained. Kira Yamato was an extraordinary pilot, even by Coordinator's standard.

If Dearka had any reason to be worried, it was Kira. He had witnessed the man's feat of skills and it went without speaking that he didn't wish to see those skills exploited for the wrong reason. But it troubled him to see what his friend was doing to himself lately. He had seen how layer after layer of patience – pretenses – were shed slowly, until only shadows of pain remained on a tired, sad face.

It pained him to think what would happen if they found nothing. He saw the light in Kira's eyes, the faint flicker of hope, and what if the light dimmed and died completely?

This was why people said that power was a two-edged sword.

"Activate the mirage colloid," Yzak's voice suddenly echoed in the cockpit.

Dearka shook his head and complied the order, focusing his sight to the nearing colony. It was hard to see anything but a huge shadow in the distance, a patch of blackness no star could permeate. He thought about the explosion. It really happened, didn't it? Looking at the colony now, somehow it felt absurd.

"It looks pretty dead to me," he finally voiced his doubt.

"You've seen the damn evidence, Dearka," his commander snapped at him. "Or do you want me to shove it up your ass?"

It brought a wry smile to his face. "No need to throw a hissy fit at me, my dear Yzak. Or are you, perhaps, nervous?"

"Shut up before I shoot you dead."

"Yes, Sir," he replied meekly. They continued the journey in silence.

But as they closed the distance, the silence began to spread its oppressive wings. Dearka tried to stifle the discomfort. He had never particularly liked space. It was probably strange considering that he had been born at PLANT and had enlisted into ZAFT in a rather young age. Still, he didn't like the silence, that feeling of being alone when he was in his mobile suit facing the boundless universe of stars and the thought of civilization was faraway. He had gone through extensive training to deal with this kind uneasiness and he _was_ able to deal with it, really. But the sentiment remained.

It was why the thought of that girl lingered at the back of his mind. Meyrin Hawke went through all this alone, without the slightest hope that she could survive. Five days. Darkness. Alone. That she had not gone out of her mind was an accomplishment in itself.

Not out of her mind, but close enough, Dearka reminded himself with a frown. Those eyes of hers were the same ones he found looking back at him every time Kira climbed off Freedom, complying his requests –or threats – to return at least once a day. It took him only two seconds looking into her eyes to realize that she loved the chairman, who didn't return while she made it alive. And the notion destroyed her.

Athrun, always the handsome one girls would flock around.

Dearka smiled. There was no malice in that thought. Perhaps a little jealousy, but he had settled on understanding that looks did have its uses and no, Athrun never flaunted it. Sometimes he hated the man for being so unbelievably modest but it was just who Athrun was. It had never been in his nature to show off and despite all said and done, he was a good man.

Maybe the old saying about a good man wouldn't live long was true after all.

He chased the thought out of his mind with another frown as the colony began to loom in front of him. Up close, it looked big enough to swallow Voltaire without any difficulty and the thought was actually making him a little wary.

"It looks dead, Yzak, I'm serious," he brought up the topic once more, painfully aware that his voice was smaller than usual.

"Stop," the commander ordered, his own voice sounding tight. "Run the check, Dupre."

"Yes, Sir."

A few moments of silence followed. Dearka fixed his eyes on the dark bulk before him, more convinced than ever that the video recording had been wrong somehow. It was just impossible to picture life or any activity in that darkness and he wasn't surprised when the younger pilot's voice came through the link again with an answer.

"Negative, Sir. No heat, no sign of movement. Nothing. Maybe they have detected us."

Dearka saw his friend's face furrowed into another frown. "Impossible. We have the most advanced technology in mirage colloid."

"It was Naturals that came up with the idea first," he reminded Yzak. "Although it still doesn't explain why we're still floating idly here if they really have detected us."

Suddenly Kira spoke up. "I'll go first."

Dearka glared at the left corner screen. "Are you insane? What if they're just waiting for us to move and get into a convenient shooting range?"

"I'll be able to dodge them," Kira answered calmly, in his voice the confidence of a pilot who had gone to hell and back twice.

"Yes, but what _if_ you are hit?" he insisted, no intention to back down whatsoever. "What should we say to your sister and ORB? Claiming that her brother is a stubborn idiot who always insists to go his own way?"

The general didn't answer directly but Dearka could feel tension building, the same one he experienced every time he found himself face to face with a wall which was Kira's adamantine will. It was the lack of participation in the argument that returned his gaze to the navigation screen and he realized with a sinking feeling that Yzak's mobile suit was already halfway toward the colony.

"Yzak!" he shouted at the screen, noting angrily that his friend was purposefully looking away. "Get back here! You are the commander damnit!"

The reply came no less vicious. "Shut up and stay put there! That is an order!"

Insubordination was one thing and Dearka usually wouldn't pay the slightest heed to rules and its inevitable penalties if it concerned his closest friends, but he stayed back nonetheless. It was okay, he tried to reason, the mirage colloid would protect him and Yzak was really a first-class pilot. Still.

Still.

_If that son of a bitch managed to get himself shot..._

Silent, almost paralyzed, his mind was a blurry blizzard of shouting and fears, his heart thumping madly in his chest. It felt like an eternity had passed before Yzak's voice reached his ears again and cleared the fog.

"I think I've found the source of the explosion."

Dearka was in the middle of processing the new information when he realized that Freedom had already sped up to the colony. He hissed in frustration and found himself wishing for the umpteenth time in this week that he was anywhere but here, stuck between his two friends. "Damnit, we're going there," he informed Yzak briskly and quickly followed.

The flight took him almost halfway to the other side of the colony before he himself noticed what the commander must have seen. What once had been a large part of the satellite was now a gaping hole. Natural causes completely went out of the window, Dearka thought wryly, unless there was a big meteoroid with every intention to crush the first surface it came across rushing at the colony in a velocity that was almost vengeful. The hole was actually not that big, but the stark difference with its surroundings –heavy buildings to nothingness – set an imaginary line somewhere in his mind.

"This must be the result of the explosion," Kira's solemn voice broke the silence.

"Well, that was surely one hell of an explosion," Dearka said, unable to keep the hint of dryness out of his tone. Maybe he was only uncomfortable being this close to what might be a veritable source of danger. Even the mirage colloid failed to give him a sense of security invisibility should.

"Uh, excuse me, Sir," Dupre suddenly spoke up, loud enough even though Dearka could detect a slight hesitance, "but is this place...really the right one?"

"You mean this isn't Cygnus," Yzak replied in a voice that sounded eerily calm in the blinding darkness. "And you're right. Cygnus is over there, the big one. This is the Second District."

Dearka looked over the place once more. Dupre was right and really, how could he not realize it at the first glance. Looking at the colony now, it was painfully obvious that they were staring at the Second District.

"That explains why we didn't detect anything right away," he agreed with a sigh. "This one is very well hidden behind Cygnus."

"But there is no living sign," Kira reminded them.

"Dupre."

"Done, Sir," the young pilot's reply came quickly. "It's still the same. All negative."

No one spoke for a moment. Dearka frowned as he mulled the new information over in his head. They had not moved from point one. There was no reaction and yes, it could be a trap even though what kind of idiot would miss this chance to shoot the laser through their cockpits while they were already this close. He sighed. This was why he never liked recon missions. Least of all to spy over something this dangerously vague. Which was _the_ crucial problem from the beginning. They knew nothing.

"Do you think we should land and check it out?" He finally broke the silence. "For all we know, this may be a trap."

"But looking at that explosion, there may be people who need our help," Kira argued.

"They would have sent a distress signal or something," Dearka reasoned, although he could feel the building of the same feeling he got every time he tried to go against Kira's wish. He could see the stubbornness as plain as day. The general would go alone if that was what it took.

On the other hand, they needed to know what happened. Going into the colony was probably the only way to find out. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to prepare himself, and said, "Let's try to deactivate the colloid. I'll do it first."

"De–"

He didn't let Yzak finish the word and pushed the deactivating button, his other hand ready on the control to flee his mobile suit if something unwanted ensued, namely a barrage of fires directed at him.

Nothing happened. Long silence, filled only by the hum of his mobile suit's machine, reigned for maybe one full minute before he broke it with a shaky laugh.

"I guess that does it," he said, the sound of his laugh thin even to his ears. Dearka winced when Yzak's glare fell on him, ready to burn him alive.

"Are you fucking out of your mind?"

"Yzak–"

"Never again," the commander hollered, face pale and livid with anger, "never again you do something stupid like that without my exact permission! You got that, Elsman!?"

"You were doing just the same a few minutes ago," he pointed out, starting to feel annoyed.

If it was possible, Yzak's face became even paler. "I'm the commander, Elsman! Don't you dare question my judgment!"

"Yes, Sir," he muttered, looking anywhere but the screen.

"Don't just 'yessir' me!" his friend spat and for a moment Dearka wondered if it was better for him to accept the other kind barrage of fires. "Show me that you mean it, asshole! You could get yourself killed doing that stupid brave act!"

Dearka remained silent, throwing helpless glances at Kira and receiving only an unreadable look in return. He sighed, far from sorry because after all, hadn't Yzak just done the same a few minutes back? Taking unnecessary risks and all and to top everything, he was the commander. If there was a stupid brave act like his friend had said, it must be one.

At long last, Kira's voice came to rescue him. "Yzak, I think it's enough."

"You stay out of this, Yamato," the white-haired commander retorted, voice dripping with all venomous substances he could think of.

"I just want to remind you that we are still in a mission," the ORB General said, unperturbed by the offensive reply. "It has already happened. What do you think we should do now?"

For a moment, there was only silence, that kind one got before a massive explosion or volcanic eruption. Half expecting his friend to launch a second burst, Dearka heaved a relieved sigh when he leaned back with an irritated huff. "Thanks to someone's idiocy, I think it's safe enough to remove the colloid," Yzak muttered, still sounding resentful but thankfully a little calmer. "Run the checks once more, Dupre."

"Yes, Sir," the answer came readily and soon was followed by another just as proficient. "Again, nothing, Sir. There is no activity going on in there."

Everyone waited patiently as Yzak stared at the colony, already sporting another frown on his face. It wasn't long, however, until he turned back to them, lips set into a firm but grim line.

"We're going in."

In his own mobile suit, Dearka closed his eyes with a deep breath, a familiar shiver running down his spine. From the communication line, he could hear Yzak establishing a communication link with Voltaire.

"Yardbirds, we're going into the colony," the commander informed his second-in-command crisply, as if to cover what little nervousness that might turn up in his voice. "If we don't return in three hours, get the hell out of here and report to the Headquarter."

The answering 'yes, Sir!' this time didn't sound as convincing. Dearka smiled grimly as Yzak terminated the connection, leaving the four of them alone once more.

"Deactivate the colloid. We'll descend now," he ordered.

More out of habit than anything, Dearka readied his mobile suit's various armaments as his comrades slowly came into view. Only silences were traded as they proceeded with the plan, the slow but insistent gravity pulling them even closer to the colony. As they reached the interior of the colony, it became clearer what they were looking at.

"I'll be damned, it's a city," he whispered.

"Yes," Yzak murmured, sounding a little awe-struck himself.

The city, as he called it, was not actually that big, but it was still bigger than a normal military base. There were buildings scattered about in a fashion so orderly that he suspected military interference at once.I t was not a base – no base had so many small buildings – but it wasn't a city either. And then there was the 'who' question.

One thing for sure, he reflected to himself, building anything of this scale behind other's back could only mean bad intention. Something like GENESIS or MESSIAH.

"There, on your left," Kira said, indicating at the big hole they had been staring at earlier. "Let's take a look at the explosion site."

They made their way toward the area quietly. All the way, there was no sign of people living in the city and Yzak continuously ordered Dupre to perform the check, each no different from the last. For some reasons, it hardly surprised Dearka. The city was dead. Too dead. He frowned at the use of the word. Dead, but not abandoned; that was the feel of this place.

There was always the possibility of a trick, of course, he reminded himself.

"The target was that large building, wasn't it?" Kira spoke up again as Freedom hovered close above the explosion site.

"Seems so. It destroyed the whole wing and a few nearby buildings," Yzak replied with a frown. "And there, you see? It looks like a damn functional landing site. Dearka, I thought you said that the Second District was nowhere near finished."

"It's what the report said, not me," Dearka defended himself although he knew where the thought had come from. The report was a lie, that much was obvious. What still remained was the 'why' question.

"We're going to land," suddenly Yzak said. "It'll be useless if we don't now that we're here already."

"Alright," he nodded, "how do you suggest we cover the ground?"

Yzak's frown deepened. "Assuming there are people still here, if they are even a little smart, they will prepare an ambush. The smaller buildings circling the landing site will be a perfect hiding place if they think that we're idiot enough to go to the main one first. So the smaller ones first. And keep the helm on," he added as if an afterthought

They landed in a relatively empty site circled by what looked like hangars. Dearka instinctively pulled out his handgun before getting out from his ZAKU Gunner, the small weight almost comforting against his palm. It was different, fighting in his mobile suit, shielded by all those metals and a big gun ready to be fired with walking around protected by nothing but his skimpy pilot suit.

Yzak made a signal with his hand and Dearka sprinted to the building he was appointed to, aware of his friend's light footsteps behind him. The entrance was left open a little and he peeked inside but saw nothing except pitch-black darkness. There might be an ambush, he reminded himself for the umpteenth time, and readied the gun just in front of his chest before kicking the door open.

He slipped inside and pressed his back against the wall, his gun raised at the end of his outstretched hands, but even with added light pouring in from the outside through the now wide open entrance, he still couldn't see anything inside the building. Dearka blinked a few times. Still nothing.

"It's too dark," he whispered to Yzak who had just followed him inside and clearly was facing the same problem. "We can't see anything inhere."

"Just feel your way around," the commander said quietly, "but ready your gun."

With more than a little wariness, Dearka started to feel his way – as Yzak had put it. It took him a few more seconds to let his eyes adjust in the darkness as he fumbled around but everything slowly came into view. There were equipments in the deceptively small building, lots of them, some neatly arranged and the rest scattered around, even toppled down as if they had been abandoned in hurry. Dearka felt the conflicting impressions furrowing his brow again. This was obviously a base, a valuable one judging from that much effort made to keep it a secret until now. The obvious question– why it was empty now – was what eluded him. The machined and equipments were not new but obviously someone had been using them until just recently.

It was abandoned, Dearka suddenly felt sure. They were alone in the colony, only four of them. Instead of inducing relief, the thought only succeeded to disconcert him even further. The darkness, the structure's low ceiling, the absolute silence did not help. The only thing they accomplished was to make him feel like a trapped mouse in a twisted cat-and-mouse game.

A smart mouse, but still.

They circled the building once, and then silently moved to another next to it. It wasn't too different to the first, only a few additions of small vehicles lining one side of the building, the kind one would use in a government facility. Meanwhile, that feeling of them being alone intensified. Dearka remembered going in a similar mission and all the way, he had felt eyes everywhere observing him from behind the curtain of silence. When the first barrage of shots had rained down on them, he was probably the only one who was not so surprised and in the end, suffered the less injuries.

Sometimes, a soldier had to rely on his gut instinct and he didn't have that feeling of being watched right now. Judging from the quiet but sure steps behind him, Yzak was not about to contest his opinion.

When they got to the fifth building, they met Kira and Dupre who were crouching down to observe a nearby vehicle, this one not neatly parked like the rest. Instead, it was left abandoned near the entrance of the small warehouse, all sort of tools scattered on its seat.

Kira looked up at them as they approached, his face indistinguishable under his helm, and asked, "Find anything? Or anyone?"

"No, there is nobody in these buildings," Dearka answered, lowering his gun. "But obviously these equipments were used until just recently. Maybe they left with those ships we saw."

"But what is – or was – going on here?" the ORB General wondered, sounding truly puzzled.

"If they kept any report, it would be in the main building," Yzak decided.

"If they haven't destroyed them, that is," Dearka added with a sigh.

In a unanimous silence, they left the warehouse and crept toward the largest construction there, trying to stay along the wall as much as possible. As they neared the building, Dearka realized that to say it was 'large' was a serious understatement. Even PLANT Council building which housed their countless offices held no candle against this – it was at least five, six times larger.

The front door – or gate, depending on how one saw it – was an automatic sliding door made like those in Voltaire, only obviously much sturdier. A few poundings on this thing wouldn't do much good, Dearka thought to himself. But there was always hope, like someone careless enough to leave the entrance unlocked or a sudden system breakdown, even though it was a pretty tall hope in their situation. However, Yzak's mind seemed to work the same way he did, seeing how his hand hovered near the door as the other sill loyally kept his gun in company.

He tried once. It didn't budge.

"We need a cardkey to get in," Yzak decided, sounding pissed, mortified and offended at the same time.

"The system seems to be inactive," Kira said, looking pointedly at the card slot. "Look, it doesn't work."

"Should we blow it up?" Dearka heard himself suggesting.

"Or shoot it down," Kira added quickly. "Your ZAKU Gunner should be able to do it easily."

Dearka was not sure if it was something the 'Protector of Peace' should be saying, but he went back to his mobile suit nevertheless at Yzak's silent nod. He did not doubt his Gundam and the beam cannon did not fail him when the front door gave way with a sickening crash. Climbing down from his ZAKU, he returned to join the others who had stepped inside the building.

A moment later, he bumped into Dupre. Hand automatically flying to his gun, Dearka leaned forward and asked in a low voice, "What is it?"

Whatever the answer was fell on deaf ears as he saw for himself the very cause which put the group into a complete halt.

It was not the most grotesque scenery he had ever seen – the aftermath of Jachin Due had been worse – but it could as well attain the second place. Just beyond the doorstep were two bodies, crimson marks staining their white lab coats and a pair of eyeglasses shattered at their side. A few steps from them were another set of bodies, five of them in more or less similar conditions, bearing the same crimson marks.

Kira knelt down next to the nearest body, his empty hand carefully examining the multiple red stains. Below layers of clothing was a pitiful sight of human body pierced by what Dearka only knew too well.

"Bullet wounds," the general said quietly. "I'm not the expert but they might be inflicted around that time two days ago."

"Who are they?" Yzak asked, the harshness in his voice trying to cover hints of tremor and failing miserably.

"I don't know, but maybe Naturals, from the look of it," Kira answered as he moved to the next person. "This one seemed to have died of the same reason."

It began to feel like a dream, a nightmare. Dearka might have pitied Dupre if he himself were not so overwhelmed by the sight before him. Even under the helm, he could almost smell the stench of death as he stood in silence there, blankly watching his white-uniformed superior walking around to check the rest. Yzak had always been the stronger one between them in matters like these. Death – close-up death, that was, one with corpses in front of your eyes – did not bother him as it did Dearka.

In contrast to his boastful nature, Yzak had never said a thing about it. Dearka suspected he knew, of that attempt of assassination fifteen years ago on Congressman Elsman. The congressman, caught up in his work, had stayed up late that night in his office and thus escaped the murder. The same could not be said about his wife, whose death had been witnessed firsthand by her only son who, as attested later by the shaking boy, by Mommy's order had slipped into the closet and hid.

That night might have been worse. Jachin Due might have been worse, but they all spelled the same word.

_Madness._

"They are all dead," Yzak announced, breaking him out of his stupor. Dearka reprimanded himself and forced his feet to follow his friend. Fear was forgivable in certain cases, but not when he was a soldier and currently in a mission, especially if it was a haunt of the past.

"They were all shot?" he asked, thankful that his voice was at least steady.

"Yeah," Yzak mumbled absentmindedly, still staring at the body before him. Crouching next to his friend, Dearka felt his tension gradually began to fade away. He hid a relieved sigh. The panic attack would go away like usual and no, he was not a small child alone hiding in a closet now.

He had friends. And one – two – of them was in need of his help. He glanced around, noticing Kira still bending over the earlier body he had been inspecting. For the first time he noticed the room they were in, if it could be called a mere room at all. It was more like an atrium, an intersection of three hallways with the other remaining side an equally grand entrance he had blown up just a few minutes before. Despite the size, Dearka felt like he was in a some kind of hospital. Or a lab. The latter was probably right.

Was it another laboratory like the one found by Minerva four years ago? Why not? He had witnessed with his own eyes the extent of madness humanity could be driven into. Adding another mad scientist and a power-hungry, world-conquering lunatic to the list was not that impossible.

"I'll check around there," Kira suddenly announced, already walking to the center hallway.

"No," Yzak's voice was sharp and it stopped the ORB general on his tracks. "No one is moving alone. You go with Dearka. We'll separate into two groups. Where is Dupre?"

"Sir, there is a map of the building here," a small voice said from the other side of the room. The commander quickly crossed the room toward the single source of light, followed closely by Dearka.

"Let me see that," he said briskly, grabbing the flashlight from the younger pilot's hand. Dearka took a peek from his friend's shoulder, surprised by the details shown by the map and the design of the building itself. This was not a two-month project, not even a two-year. It might take three or four years to design and finish the building, let alone the whole satellite and the city outside. A scale number at the bottom-right of the map verified his rough guess earlier – a monstrosity, nothing short of it. Suddenly, the size of the hall alarmed him. He looked around uneasily. The ceiling looked so high, or was it only because of the darkness?

Stupid, he scolded himself. It was the atmosphere whispering fear and he had let himself get carried away. Fortunately, Yzak decided to speak up at that moment.

"That settles it. Look here. This is a three-winged building. As we have already seen, the south wing is almost completely wiped out by the explosion. We can check it later but for now, you two go to the west and I and Dupre will cover the east. If anything happens, use the comm."

They all nodded. Dearka took another glance toward the map, memorizing it as far as he could before following Kira to the west wing. Again, the automatic handgun was readily clasped by his hand. Stupid or not, he rather not taking chances.

The first few doors yielded nothing behind them. There were workstations, machines, test tubes, and various equipments which uses Dearka preferred not to know, but all of them appeared to be off. Like those warehouses outside, there were signs of living everywhere, a sense of chaotic orderliness only humans possessed. Notes were everywhere, scattered on the desk, pinned on the announcement board, and slipped between ridiculously thick textbooks. Add a few half-empty bottles of mineral water and they found a perfect workspace.

They performed a quick search in every room but little were found so far. Whoever had been using these rooms before must have left them in a great hurry.

"I should have known," Kira said with a sigh after checking another computer yet again. "The problem is electricity. That is the reason the whole satellite is so dark."

"One thing for sure, this is a damn well-habited colony," Dearka said, handing Kira a piece of paper he had found in the printing tray. "Someone was just printing that list when they suddenly and abruptly left."

Kira frowned behind his helm as he scanned the names written on the list. "There must be at least thirty peoples working for this…Engineering Division alone."

"My point exactly."

They looked at each other but said nothing. Not even when they found a few more dead bodies along the corridor on the second floor, sporting the same wounds and in a condition more or less the same like those in the atrium. Kira was tense, Dearka could see it in the way he walked around two bodies slumped together in the middle of the floor, and the way his empty hand balling into a fist.

He would hate seeing what that tension could turn out to if something – or someone – didn't come and break the spell.

"Any survival?" he asked after what felt like hours prodding in the darkness.

"None so far," Kira replied, his voice tight and Dearka glanced at him. He was itching to ask 'are you okay' but realized that it was probably rhetorical at this point. The probability was small but if Athrun was somewhere among these dead bodies...

They continued their inspection in silence. He wondered how Yzak and Dupre were doing in the east wing. Probably not much of a success either. Whoever had executed this plan of massacre seemed to make sure they had done a very thorough job.

"Dearka."

It was probably the tone of voice Kira was using – frail, wretched, vulnerable. He turned around reluctantly, warning sirens blaring behind his eardrums, every step he took heavier than the last as he approached the ORB General who had stopped on the threshold of the room he had been about to enter. Dearka stopped not a feet away behind Kira and peered inside the room.

That his feet had been frozen to their place was probably the only reason he had not crumpled to the floor.

"We should tell Yzak now," Dearka muttered weakly, rather surprised that he could produce any voice at all, and almost shrieked when Kira took a tentative step into the room instead. In horror mixed with incredulous amazement, he watched the other man kneel down, looking at the nearest body – or the one on top of the nearest pile of bodies, considering the condition inside the room. He had seen something like this, a picture on the slideshow during his ZAFT's mental training, and it hadn't exactly affect him that much, unlike to most of the girls in the room.

He wasn't supposed to see that picture in real life.

"What are you doing?" he asked, for once not caring about the tremor in his voice.

"Not all of them died from bullet wounds," the general said, sounding eerily matter-of-fact.

Dearka felt his head spinning madly. "What?"

"This man doesn't have any external wound."

"But–"

When Kira stood up and started to run back the way they came, all Dearka could do was following him, his own feet eager to leave the room and its only too clear proof of slaughter. They returned to the entrance, Kira stopping in front of the map and hurriedly reading the legends at the bottom-right of the map.

"The south wing is the control and engine areas," his voice was uptight, holding back something just beneath the surface, ready to break out, "and if you blow that up…"

Kira didn't finish his sentence and Dearka didn't need him to. He stared at his younger friend, horrified. "You mean the people in that room died because they couldn't breathe?"

He couldn't see Kira's face, but the anger – desperation – was clear when his fist collided with the wall, voice wrecked by so much more than just anguish.

"Something like this can still happen!"

It was then when he realized that they stood at the beginning, not the end.

  
 _**End Chapter 11  
** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Character Info:** First, Vino Dupre. He's this orange-haired mechanic boy in Minerva, a friend of Youlan whom I have mentioned in chapter nine. He first appeared at the beginning of GSD driving a jeep with Lunamaria. The second is Malik Yardbirds, Yzak's second-in-command. He was previously the pilot of Minerva, the one with dark hair and a hat, usually sitting at the pilot seat on the bridge. He could be seen assisting Captain Gladys with Arthur Trine from time to time and he actually spoke, though I don't remember the exact episode.
> 
> I don't know anything about Dearka's mother and I have never read any info about her either, so I make a background story out of her. I just want to add slightly more character to my Dearka and I think it's fitting in many ways. If she is, in truth, alive and happy, let's just pretend.
> 
>  **Other technical info:** L3 is the location of Heliopolis and Artemis (colonies from Gundam SEED series). Lagrange point itself is (from Gundam Official): _. . . an area of gravitational stability created by the interactions of a planet and its satellite...there are five of such regions in the Earth-moon system, referred to as L1 through L5, which make ideal sites for space colonies._ For information, PLANT is at L5. L4 is colony Mendel, Kira's birthplace.
> 
> Mirage function was the function Blitz (Nicol's Gundam in Gundam SEED series) was equipped with. According to Gundam Official, Mirage Colloid _renders the mobile suit invisible to both radar and the naked eye . . . even blocks infra-red emissions, giving the Blitz perfect stealth capabilities. However, the mobile suit's Phase Shift Armor must be deactivated while this system is in use, so it becomes highly vulnerable while in its invisible form._ More info can be found in the website.
> 
> About Freedom, it should be noted that the actual Freedom had been destroyed by Destiny during Phase 35 of Destiny. The Freedom I continuously refer to in this story all along is actually Strike Freedom. I hope this doesn't confuse anyone.
> 
> About the deficiency of oxygen in Second District, as I have said above, air circulation is maintained by engines which are a part of the infrastructure system. But in SEED, we saw Kira and Mwu going into an abandoned colony (which is Mendel) without helm, which means that there is enough oxygen to keep them breathing. Oxygen is a heavy gas, so it may have something to do with gravity pull, but for the sake of the story, I make Second District an oxygen-less area despite the fact that it has enough gravity to allow the characters to run. Not sure if it's scientifically possible and I don't pretend to know how a colony is built and managed either, so if I got it wrong, sorry. The exact cause of death will be explained in the next chapter.


	12. Kira - A Dull Pain

  
Once he opened the door, he was immediately drowned in a flutter of black and pink.

Kira took a few steps back, steadying himself and the extra baggage his arms had been trusted with, and could not help but smile a little as a familiar scent overwhelmed his nose. Yzak had told him about her coming but he certainly did not expect it to be this fast.

"Kira, oh Kira," Lacus whispered, looking up at him with a pair of anxious blue eyes. "How are you? I am really sorry about everything. I wish I can come sooner but everything is so hectic in PLANT."

"I'm okay, Lacus," he answered gently, his smile widening on its own accord despite his too obvious lie. He had really missed her and this little meeting came in the most appropriate time. Yzak was helpful and more than willing to cooperate no matter how antagonistic he tried to appear, and Dearka fussed over him so much that he could not help but to feel touched, knowing that he had friends all around him, and still, it was different. Lacus understood his pain like no others, probably from being one of the persons closest to him, and she had always been his harbour when all were lost. It was ironic now that he remembered the last time he took so much comfort from her had been when Athrun had intended to kill him years ago. And now the cause was Athrun again, although on a vastly different basis.

Still, his pleasure to see her again was shadowed by the prominent changes about her he had no choice but to notice. She was still beautiful, but no longer could he call her merely slender. Emaciated would be more like it. The black council dress might cover her obvious lack of eating but those gaunt cheeks beneath a pair of swollen eye bags spoke more than one or two volumes to him.

"You are thinner," he said, his voice nearly caught in his throat.

"And so are you," she replied with a look which both reproached and apologized. He gave her a quiet smile, one arm guiding her to the only chair in the room while he occupied the bed himself. She put her purse neatly on her lap and stared at him.

"I heard you were the one who discovered the bodies," she started tentatively.

"Dearka and I," he corrected, feeling the familiar lump in his throat every time he remembered the scene. Kira doubted he would be able to forget the room with its piles and piles of bodies. "We went with Yzak and another pilot, Dupre, to the colony to investigate if anything was going on there. I'm sure you already know the details."

Lacus nodded. "Yes. Commander Jule sent us quite a comprehensive report." She paused, a troubled look on her face. "The Supreme Council is very upset. Not only they have no knowledge of this colony being inhabited, there is actually someone bold enough to commit this atrocity. It's... unthinkable."

Kira bit his lips in silence. It was just like four years ago, the helplessness, frustration, anger that humans did not learn from their mistake. It felt like everything they had done was in vain. Nothing changed. No one changed. They were building sand castles which fell, disintegrated at the first wave washing on the shore, a dream in an ugly, mismatched reality.

Not for the first time he wished he could simply turn and walk away.

"What is PLANT going to do next?" he finally asked.

"For now a full and thorough investigation is in order. They will open the matter to the world in hope there will be aid or at least information regarding this terrible incident. That is why I am here. PLANT needs help in the state they are in now."

A moment later Lacus spoke again, her voice hesitant, "Kira, do you suspect anyone?"

It was probably the momentary pause – or the question itself – because he found himself looking at her fully and somberly. "No, I cannot say I do. Most of the victims are Caucasians but there is no indication of exact origin. All files in all computers have been deleted and the storage room was located in the south wing where the explosion took place. There are equipments with their company's name on it but it isn't guaranteed a veritable proof. Still, it may be a start point. We can trace it back to the companies to find out who the buyer was."

"Yes, it may be a start," she agreed with a thoughtful nod. "It will be a lot of extra work for the Jule squad. By the way the Council has agreed to assign another team to help with the investigation."

Kira raised his eyebrows. "You will have to talk to Yzak about that, although I'm not sure he will be pleased."

It touched a little smile to Lacus's lips. "I shall, as soon as possible."

He smiled back. There was something in Lacus's smiles, a sort of charm that could bewitch Coordinators and Naturals alike and he certainly was not immune to it. In the past, he had almost misinterpreted the attraction as love, but when he stayed at Athrun's side after Archangel had found a ZAKU with him and Meyrin in it, anxiety clamping its cold unfriendly fingers around his heart, he knew that there was one person he would protect to the world's end and beyond. Lacus had been nothing but supportive and he really appreciated it. Their not-quite-a-relationship withered, fading, growing into a warm friendship Kira held close in his heart and knew he would never let go till his dying days.

They had never talked about it. It simply faded.

"Thank you for coming, Lacus," he said softly, meaning every word of it.

"It means as much to me, Kira," she answered, her smile brightening for a moment before losing its cheerfulness a second after. He could sense her distress when she spoke again. "It didn't cross my mind even once that there is still so much hate, strong enough to force someone committing this appalling crime. After all the trust the people put in me, I have failed in my duty."

"None of us can stop this, Lacus," he said quickly. The last thing he wanted to see right now was to see his friend blaming herself. "It definitely isn't your fault, but at least it can serve as a reminder for us to be more careful in the future."

Her eyes were locked with his and she still looked unconvinced but the subject was let pass. Instead, she asked, "Does Cagalli know?"

Kira nodded. "Yes, I have told her. I am originally here as a general of ORB after all, but I've asked Yzak's permission."

"I should say it is a wise thing to do," she approved.

"It cannot hurt to play safe," he gave her a little smile, bland though it was, "especially now when ORB no longer holds so much credibility to the world's eyes. Anyway, I have to return to ORB in two days."

"You have your duties," Lacus nodded in understanding but he could see her hands holding her purse with more intensity than necessary. Her clear blue eyes darkened and she murmured, "If only..."

She didn't continue and Kira looked away to the wall of his room, the all-too-familiar pain taunting at the edge of his consciousness. The discussion was a mask they were only too glad to wear as they continued to dance around the topic neither of them was willing to voice. He knew why Lacus came. He knew that there was no one who could understand what you felt in situations like this better than a comrade who had fought with you side-by-side in a war. He knew that there was no one who could understand what losing Athrun really meant for him better than Lacus or Cagalli.

 _Oh God._ He used _the_ word.

Kira buried his face in his hands, unaware that his intake of breath was shaky or that Lacus was looking at him with worried eyes. He was not _losing_ Athrun, was what he had constantly whispered to himself in the last few days. He was still out there somewhere, Kira just knew it. The thought of him dying was ridiculous, impossible, irrational. His best friend and lover was still alive and he was _not_ losing him.

Athrun couldn't die. Kira wouldn't let him.

Cagalli said that he was a dreamer. It was probably right, Kira reflected bitterly. At least it could explain why he continued to believe – or forced himself to continue to believe – what others would have abandoned long ago.

Did he believe that Athrun could survive with a small tank of oxygen for two weeks?

No, he didn't.

But there were always other possibilities, like he could end up in a colony or even on earth although those possibilities were pretty small. It was always the argument which would follow every time the question turned up. Or that Athrun was too stubborn to die that easily and Kira would accept no other explanation except that his boyfriend was still alive. Athrun hadn't said goodbye to him. He hadn't even felt anything prior to the incident and until now, there was only a dull pain crawling in his heart, reminding him that the person he loved the most was not by his side.

No, he didn't believe that Athrun had died either.

"I brought you something," Lacus's soft voice suddenly break the silence. He looked up as she took out something from her purse, her movement careful as if she was afraid to hurt whatever inside. His eyes widened in surprise when she put onto his hand a small yellow-green Haro, very small that he could balance it easily on two fingers. The little robot stared at him with a pair of innocent eyes and he felt the dull pain sharpening into something much more defined, something familiar which he would rather forget.

"Lime-chan could talk and move once, but I guess he just ran out of battery and I have not gotten the chance to ask him to repair him," she spoke again, the note of gentleness still there tinting her words. "You know I have so many of them. He always gave me one Haro on my birthday, he said to accompany the lonely present inside the box. Since he is quite small, I think you will have no difficulty to have him around, Kira. You know, just as some kind of lucky charm."

Kira was only listening absentmindedly to her as he continued to stare at the small object in her hand, the little weight a burden almost too heavy for him in his memories-ambushed state. He remembered Torii, alone on the desk in his bedroom in ORB, currently in the same state Lime-chan was. There had been times during his stay in space when he had regretted his forgetfulness to bring the robotic bird with him. Even if it could no longer talk and soothe him, it could remind him of Athrun, giving him a flicker of hope always.

_Athrun._

"Do you think he'll make me another one when he returns?" he asked quietly, his voice thin and betraying everything he felt inside.

"Oh, Kira."

It was there in her eyes, he realized with a sinking feeling as she squeezed his hands, her fingers trembling slightly, her blue eyes glazed with unshed tears. She was letting go of that hope, probably not completely yet but there were signs of it. Maybe it wouldn't be long, the day when he would stand alone, hoping against hope that someone he really, really loved was still there and would smile at him again.

When he reached out and held Lacus quietly in his arms, the first sobs falling out from her parted lips, Kira felt like he wanted to cry too.

But he couldn't.

He found out why half-an-hour later, when the door had been closed behind her and he sank to the floor, his arms wrapping around his chest tightly to quell the pain, and he found himself alone, separated from the world, only accompanied by the soft drone of the ship's main engine and his bottomless sadness.

His heart ached, his eyes stung, but no tears came out.

He had forgotten how to cry.

  
_**End Chapter 12  
** _


	13. Cagalli - Hoping Against Hopes

  
"This concludes my report, Representative Athha."

Cagalli returned her gaze to the officer standing just before her desk from the faraway land she had been staring at while listening to his report. Shinn looked at her expectantly, waiting for her response, which Cagalli realized after a few seconds was something she needed to give.

"So let me get this straight," she began, trying to remember what he had been saying and separating them from all other reports and documents she had had to deal with throughout the day, "you tracked down the cell phone which belonged to Gerald Patti, our current suspect, and found it four days ago in a dumpster at Diman Street. It was together with other kind of garbage which allegedly came from the surrounding apartment buildings. You have checked every room in every building, including those currently unoccupied, and found nothing suspicious. And then yesterday, there was a body washed ashore on Onogoro Island and later identified as our suspect. Did I get everything right?"

He looked straight at her but she could tell that he was getting uncomfortable. "Yes, Ma'am."

She sighed and leant back to her chair. "I hate to put it this way but it looks like we are back at square one,"

Shinn didn't reply and neither was she waiting for one. It was like being reminded that all of their hard works were for nothing and she knew that Shinn took the hardest blow in this. She might be a busy, but Cagalli remained the girl who cared for her friends and she'd be damned if she didn't notice that one of her lieutenants – and friends too – was working himself to death.

But she didn't say anything save for a few orders for him to go home sometimes. Cagalli knew how it felt to make a mistake and Shinn was so like her that she understood too well what atonement meant for people like them. Not sympathy, not empty smiles, not nonsense. It was the thought that you had done something to not worsen the situation if not make it better which saved him, and so she let him.

 _Do unto others what you want others to do unto you,_ she thought wryly.

"So what are your takes about this recent development?" she asked.

"There are three possibilities," he explained. "The first is that he was the culprit and due to a series of unfortunate events, lost himself during the escape. The second is that he was acting under someone's order and subsequently removed from the equation in fear of leaking the truth. The third is that he was simply a scapegoat for a crime committed by another party."

"And which one are you more inclined to believe?"

"The second," his answer was quick and certain. "The first depends on a lot of chances and ill lucks, which while are not impossible, have a much smaller probability than the others. As for the third, I think there are other methods they can employ which can safely remove the body with a smaller risk of it being found."

She arched twin skeptical eyebrows. "In this condition, isn't to dump it at the sea is one of the most hassle-free methods to remove a body?"

"Well, yes," Shinn admitted heavily, "if they lacked any other means."

Cagalli closed her eyes, thinking about the suspect – or used-to-be-suspect. She had to agree with Shinn, the second scenario was the most probable from every angle now that he had been found dead. But whoever had done that must be working from the inside and she hated to even think that somebody in her country could do anything like that.

 _Don't be naive_ , she chided herself. ORB might be more stable in the last few years compared to the condition it had been left in after the first and second Natural-Coordinator war, but it didn't mean everyone was satisfied with everything. She knew very well that several attempts to take her life in said last few years more than testified for it. Sometimes it was painful to think about it. She had done so much, sacrificed so much, and God knows that she loved her people.

With a long sigh, she opened her eyes again, finding Shinn still waiting for her response, and was oddly comforted by his presence. It was lingering just beneath her skin, the desperation of not being able to help her brother because she didn't know what to do. This wasn't something she could make disappear just by patting his back and whispering comforts. This was in a completely different scale and she couldn't reach far enough to save him, her fingers only grasping air and emptiness while she witnessed Kira falling deeper and deeper.

That hopelessness, she thought she had gotten rid of it. But the truth shook her up and here she was, sixteen again and watching a part of her country blown up with her father in it.

"What about his family?" she finally asked, maintaining a degree of stability in her voice the Lion of ORB would be proud of.

"He didn't have one, Representative," his voice was deep, flat. "He was an orphan and brought up in an orphanage. He went to college on an Army scholarship, enlisted to military at the age of eighteen and for his whole life never officially left ORB."

"A perfect scapegoat."

Shinn maintained an expressionless face. "It is certainly one way to look at it."

"Does Kira know about this?"

"Yes, General Yamato also agreed that the second is the most probable scenario. But he is currently occupied by the Cygnusia case."

Right, the Cygnusia case. She hated to remember that her brother was the one who had found that room full of corpses. Other than that, apparently ORB once more had to put itself under limelight with every development in the case being announced. Various equipments found in the Second District bore the name of one of ORB's largest company and the world didn't need a genius to tell them who the seller was. Not all of them, but still. There would be investigations and she would be surprised if a trial did not follow.

For probably the hundredth time today, Cagalli suppressed the urge to scream. This really was the last thing she needed right now. Accusations – as if she hadn't gotten them enough – bombarded her country like a destroyer's barrage of fires. Lacus had tried to pull a lot of hidden strings to keep certain information to themselves and she knew for sure that Commander Jule hadn't been sitting idly either, but priority was priority. PLANT was in crisis, the Cygnusia case was big and the world wanted to know. ORB suddenly held no importance in front of so immense of a chaos and only served as a deer with a headlight, a convenient shooting target.

If only they were more powerful, she silently cursed. It was like a seesaw. She could maintain stability with Athrun at the other end, but now that he was not there, ORB lost all sense of balance. She had never known that their position was so precarious, not until now.

Which might be too late.

Cagalli returned her gaze to the lieutenant general and laced her fingers together on the desk, signing the end of discussion. "All right. Continue the investigation. For the time being, I don't think it's necessary to involve the other representatives. Just report to both Kira and me. Find another lead. I don't care how, just find it. We need to know who is behind this, for ORB and for him."

He saluted. "Yes, Ma'am."

It was already past seven o'clock, she realized with a hint of relief when Shinn had already disappeared behind her office door. She had been there since five in the morning and only gone out for meetings and more meetings. Lunch had been a hurried affair of four bites of hamburger and she had not seen Kira at all today.

She was twenty-two. Cagalli wondered if she could do this for another twenty or thirty years.

"Are we done for the day?" she asked tiredly when Donna entered the room.

Her secretary shot her a sympathetic look. "Just a couple of files for you to read, Representative, for tomorrow's meeting with the President of Morgenroete. You can take them home if you want."

"And now it's homework," she murmured with a pout, accepting the large brown envelope.

"The meeting is important."

"Everything is important if it's all up to you," she accused but admitted silently that Donna was right. The meeting would also be attended by the other four representatives whom she was rather reluctant to meet these days. Her permission to let one of their most important generals stay longer than necessary in space – as they kindly put it – was a topic they were never tired to bring up wherever and whenever. They subtly accused her of using her authority for personal gains, which Cagalli again had to admit, had a ring of truth in them. If it wasn't Athrun, she would never allow Kira prolonged his stay. Hell, she might have not sent Kira at all.

Power was a dangerous thing, she reflected on her way home. Lacus once had said that to her – to all of them – and yet they still carried out the plan and seized the world. And now she could feel it slipping through her fingers and she didn't like it. At all.

_I'm beginning to get addicted to it._

Cagalli smiled wryly to her own reflection on the car's window. In retrospect, she had found power convenient and necessary, especially with the weight of a country on her shoulders. Power might be dangerous, but power was a necessity. Without power, she could not do anything.

The realization hit her like a winter avalanche. She still remembered who had once said to her and her reaction to it not long ago – only four years. And nothing would be able to make her forget what the man had become, the devastation he had brought. And the war that followed. And the lives that were lost. And MESSIAH. And chaos. Madness. Pain.

Putting a shaky hand on her temple, Cagalli tried to calm herself. She was not Gilbert Dullindal. Her friends were not that mad ex-chairman of PLANT. They would not become him, she was sure of it.

 _He wasn't mad_ , a small voice in the back of her mind told her. _And you know it._

_He simply wished for a better future._

When she climbed down from the car, Cagalli tried not to contemplate whether she had the same wish or not. _You are home,_ she sternly told herself. Think about it tomorrow.

Greeting her at the door was the smiling face of her once babysitter and now trusted servant. "Good evening, Hime-sama."

Cagalli returned the smile, aware that hers looked much more tired and less spirited. "It's always a relief to see you, Mana, maybe because that usually means I'm home."

"It must be a tough day," she said sympathetically but did not waste time in her sympathy. "Dinner is ready. Do you want me to serve it now?"

"I've promised to eat with Kira. Is he home already?"

"Yes, Kira-sama came home about half-an-hour ago."

Cagalli nodded and proceeded to the stairs. "I'll see him first."

Her feet became heavier with every step she took and she wondered what the hell she was doing. She was not good at cheering up people and everybody knew that in the miserable state she was currently in, she tended to take many wrong turns. But Lacus had called her and said that she was worried about Kira, that his sister might be the only person who could help him right now because he obviously shut her out. He didn't let her in and Cagalli realized how much the fact hurt Lacus.

It might not help much, but it was better than nothing. And it wasn't as if she didn't notice what was happening to her brother. Kira knew how to put himself and he took his title, that 'Protector of Peace', very seriously. Responsibility had a whole new meaning when it came to him, which, Cagalli realized sadly, was not always good for him and his health, physically and mentally. It was like Strike-and-Archangel all over again. He had to protect. He wanted to protect. He couldn't be weak. He couldn't cry. He couldn't break down.

Murrue-san had mentioned it once to her, the hero complex her twin seemed to suffer. Cagalli could practically hear guilt in her voice while she was reciting those difficult times and how Kira had almost lost himself simply by thinking _I have to, I have to and I have to._ It was a warning, Cagalli realized with a sense of remorse, one she hadn't taken many actions on since she was too busy saving the face of her country.

She might shoulder the weight of one whole country but Kira was burdened by humanity itself, the role he voluntarily took when he had decided to ride to war and save them twice. Murrue-san knew this and it was why she had tried to caution her. And Mwu-san. During these three days after Kira's return, it was not seldom either for her to see the older man dragging both his superior and coworker out from their office for something as simple as lunch.

Hence the dinner tonight. Cagalli couldn't say that she was free of fault either, looking at the inadequate lunch she had had this afternoon, and she wasn't about to make excuses. At least she could assure herself that dinner tonight would be better. Maybe she could try that bad joke the Head Representative from Equatorial Union had cracked during their meeting this afternoon.

The door to his room was slightly ajar and Cagalli was about to announce her arrival when she realized what she was looking at. She stopped dead on her track, her body suddenly running cold, nails digging into the brown envelope she was holding and every document within.

Kira was standing in front of his closet, directly within her line of sight, and in his arms, tightly held to his chest was a familiar brown jacket.

Athrun's jacket.

She stood there as if in trance as she watched her brother kissing the jacket, lips whispering words she couldn't hear. His eyes were closed and on his lips was a smile, a beautiful smile which was so forlorn that it almost made her choke, her feet trembling beneath the new weight she had just discovered. This was not something for her eyes to witness but she could not bring herself to move from the heartbreaking picture. For a moment in that minute, for _just_ a moment, she saw that he wasn't Kira Yamato the ORB general, the pilot of Freedom, the protector of peace, the champion of justice. He was just Kira, who loved his best friend Athrun very much.

_Why must it be him? Haumea, why must it be him?_

The first bead of tears slid down her cheeks and she felt like her chest was bursting with pain. She knew he was breaking inside and yet he felt so far, too far for her to touch him. The few steps in between, the door she was hiding behind suddenly became so much more. It was that gap she couldn't bridge and now that she had seen this, how could she? Lacus was not the only one he was shutting out. Kira wouldn't let the world see what he was feeling, how much he was holding inside, how bad Athrun's disappearance was affecting him.

He was alone. She might be here, trying to offer a hand, but he remained alone, fighting his own war in a battlefield no one else could enter.

Cagalli would have turned back and call the whole dinner thing off if Kira had not turned around and noticed her there. The shock was evident on his face and all of a sudden she felt guilty, aware that she had intruded what must count as a very private moment. She might be her twin, but there were things, moments she should have left alone – her brother deserved at least that much.

Still, whether this was one of them or not she really couldn't tell.

"Kira," she forced herself to speak, almost wincing at the weak sound coming out of her throat, and hastily wiped her eyes. "Sorry I didn't knock. I was–"

"It's okay, Cagalli," he said quietly, his usual melancholy look already back on his face even though he did little to hide the jacket. "What is it?"

Cagalli tried to smile, which turned out not exactly unsuccessful but still pathetically false if she were any judge of it. "Dinner, remember? You agreed to have dinner with me in your room today."

"Oh, right." His surprise was genuine, diluting the heavy air between them for a moment, and his posture became slightly more relaxed. "I'm sorry, I almost forgot. Come in."

"Thanks," she muttered, slightly relieved that he didn't make an issue out of her rather inappropriate behaviour. It was completely honest if she said that Kira was probably the last person she wanted to piss off on the face of the earth.

"There are a lot of things in my mind today," Kira mumbled, almost like talking to himself, and Cagalli realized that he had not fully recovered yet from the episode happening just a minute prior. And now that she was closer, she could see that his fingers were still clinging to Athrun's jacket, trapped between straps and buckles and, she realized bitterly, memories.

 _Trapped._ That was what he was.

"Why don't you take a bath first?" she suggested, still with the same heavy smile which stubbornly refused to leave her face. "I'll tell them to bring the food up."

He nodded and hung the jacket on a hook, putting it away from her eyes before disappearing into the bathroom. Cagalli was surprised to find that she was relieved. She didn't want to remember Kira's face when he was kissing the jacket. There was a line there she had overstepped and this new knowledge destroyed her.

Kira didn't crack up. He just didn't. And if he started to show signs of cracking up, whatever happening bust be bad enough if not worse.

What was she thinking? Cagalli suddenly wanted to punch herself. This was about Athrun, of course it was bad enough! He was strong – he looked strong – and she took it for granted. She didn't think about the demons Kira had to fight in order to believe that his best friend – lover – was still alive. They were different from what she had to fight. Crueler, stronger, uglier.

For the first time in days – weeks – she wondered if it was better for them to find Athrun dead. This was worse. They were clinging to hope because there was no body found and who knows, who knows maybe it was better for Kira if...

Cagalli hissed loudly, horrified that such thought could set foot in her mind, and walked over to the desk, seeking refuge from the framed pictures lining up next to a pile of computer books. They were Kira's anamnesis, like Athrun had once christened them. She let her eyes travel from one frame to another, a wave of nostalgia sweeping across her heart. The four of them. Kira and his parents. Kira with his whole military brigade. Last year's Christmas party in ORB. Kira and Athrun. Cagalli smiled slightly at the last – it was her who had taken that picture during Athrun's brief visit to ORB nine months ago. There was this look in Kira's eyes, a mirror of the slight upturn of Athrun's mouth, which told her that she was looking at a couple very much in love with each other.

It was unfair, she said to herself, eyes blurring again. It shouldn't come to this. They were young. They had so much ahead of them. Maybe she didn't know that kind of love yet, but at least she knew what it meant if a sword lost its sheath. Kira was a sword, a sharp one but extremely fragile at that, and without Athrun he would–

It took her a few seconds to realize that she was thinking of Athrun like he was already dead.

The sound coming from Kira's cell phone was the only thing standing between her and screaming. She whipped around so fast and for a moment only stared at the source of the sound on the bed. The second round of its musical tune snapped her out of it and she hurriedly grabbed it, her heart beating three times faster when she saw the caller ID.

Yzak Jule.

"Hello?" Her voice sounded shaky but Cagalli really couldn't care less at the moment.

"We found something!" The voice that answered to her was excited, almost ecstatic. Her throat suddenly went dry and it took almost her all willpower to conquer the silence left by the overexcited outburst.

"You found something?"

There was a pause, in which she suspected that the caller had just realized who was actually speaking with him.

"Representative Athha?"

"Yes, Commander Jule, Kira is in the bathroom," she answered, firmness returning to her voice despite her numbing limbs. "You said you found something?"

"Yes, Representative," Yzak suddenly sounded reserved and stiff, which she realized sadly was the result of her title and position. Except Kira and sometimes Fllaga, everyone in the military always treated her in their most formal despite her age, even Shinn, and while this was something she had learnt to appreciate throughout the years, she couldn't help but to feel lonely sometimes.

Was this even important right now?

"And?" she asked again.

"We've just finished going through some of the security video which survived the explosion and there was something in it which may–"

"Wait a minute," she stopped him when Kira emerged from the bathroom, wearing a bathrobe with a towel tossed haphazardly above his damp hair. "It's Yzak Jule," she called to him. "He said they found something in the security video from that colony."

Even from that distance, she could see her twin's eyes widened. She put the call through a speaker and let Kira spoke to the line.

"Yzak? It's me. You found something?"

"Yeah," there was a breathless note in the ZAFT commander's voice and Cagalli found herself holding her breath as well. "I think... we think he's alive."

The silence which followed was heavy, loaded with feelings left unvoiced. Cagalli found herself sitting on the edge of Kira's bed, strength abandoning her feet completely once the news sank in. For the longest moment there was no relief, just emptiness, like every sense of emotion had been wiped clean. She carefully looked at Kira, at the stunned expression on his face, and then the fear that erased everything else as if he was afraid that he had misheard.

"What?" Kira's voice sounded weak.

"Athrun– Chairman Zala is alive. There is this one file, it's pretty hard to break the password and get into the system but we managed to do it. It's a recording from a security video and he's in there."

"He is?" Kira almost choked between the words.

"Yes," Yzak's voice was confident, even if a little smug. "It appears that he was locked in one of the rooms in the main building. He seems to be sleeping – or unconscious, we're not sure – and there are tubes attached to his arm but otherwise he looks fine. We have gone through every single body there and he isn't among them."

"Are you sure?" Cagalli took her chance to ask since her brother seemed incapable of any sort of speech at the moment.

"One hundred percent, Representative Athha. We have checked four times to make sure and we are in the middle of taking blood checks from each body to compare them with the chairman's."

"What about the room he was locked in?"

"We have also located the room – in the east wing of the building – but it is empty. Our assumption is that he went with one of the ships which had left the colony prior to the explosion."

Suddenly Kira came out of his stupor. "You have any idea where they might go?"

"Unfortunately no," the voice lost a little of its earlier complacency. "You've seen our video yourself. We can only see them leaving the colony but not where they were going. The possibility that he's on Earth now is just as big as anywhere else."

Cagalli threw another glance at Kira, anxious because her twin seemed determined not to look at her and stare blankly at the cell phone instead. "What about the system in the colony?" she asked, trying to sound calm. "Surely there's a log or something."

It was Kira who answered to her question. "It has been destroyed by the explosion."

"Yes," Yzak promptly confirmed, "but I can assure you that he is not among the dead bodies. The blood test will be finished tomorrow and then we'll know for sure."

Kira's expression was strange and Cagalli didn't dare breaking the silence. When he brought a hand to his eyes, she thought he was going to cry. She waited for a few moments, unmoving, looking at his shoulders shaking slightly, and thought _at last_. But to her surprise, his eyes were dry still when he lowered his hand, if a little hazy they seemed.

"Thank you, Yzak," he said softly, sincerely.

There was a moment of pause and when Yzak spoke again, he sounded uncomfortable. "I will contact you again tomorrow. Good night, General, Representative."

The room felt empty after call, the only sound far murmurs coming from the outside, and they stayed that way for a long moment. Her eyes never left Kira, reading the stiffness in his posture and those eyes now hidden behind a curtain of chocolate-coloured bangs, and she wondered if he was still wrecked by that fear. Hope was a very dangerous thing, fickle and insensitive, and this one soared far above the rest. But when Kira finally looked at her, Cagalli could see the splintered tension, the budding relief he was obviously suppressing. He mouthed something she couldn't hear, eyes shining for the first time in days, and all she could do was to reach for his shoulder, holding to it quietly.

"I..." his breath hitched and he closed his eyes, fighting with what might be a wave of tears. "Cagalli, I..."

"I know," she soothed, smiling at his overwhelmed state. "I know, Kira."

And the phone rang again.

They looked at each other after a brief glance to the cell phone and she instinctively tightened her squeeze. She saw him bite his lips and an unsteady hand reached out to accept the call.

"Yes?"

A pause.

"Miriallia?"

  
_**End Chapter 13  
** _


	14. Athrun - Shackled and Burned

  
Athrun Zala was not unfamiliar with severe injuries. Injuries were the constant companion to a fighter, a badge of courage some said. There were times in his life when he had almost crossed that dangerous threshold and gone to the other side, and sometimes, for a soldier who had taken so many lives with his own hands, death was terrifying. The memory, the sensation stayed with him until now, locked in the darkest nook of his mind, unseen but not unfelt.

It was why that when he finally regained consciousness, Athrun knew that something was not right.

At first, there were only voices, faint and indistinguishable, and then slowly, when the haze of painkillers sleep and rest had spread in his body began to weaken, the pain was excruciating. He struggled to open his eyes and found nothing more than a string of blurry images before the pain sent him adrift once more.

But he was stronger than that.

The next time he managed to fight off the unconsciousness, the pain was still there but not as intense. Voices also still colored the realm between his awareness and beyond, one of them sounding vaguely familiar to him, and curiosity made him finally open his eyes. He encountered a different string of images than the last and put more effort to focus his gaze, all the way repeatedly deflecting the upcoming of a terrible headache.

His surrounding was foreign, Athrun concluded after a brief inspection. It was a small, yellow-walled room with low ceiling and a little hole which he realized a moment later as a window. Sunlight poured in from the open gap, brightening the grey, uncovered floor and it was then when he started to wonder where he was. His body was numb and when he tried to move, all of his joints seemed to simultaneously scream in pain. He settled back to the hard bedding and tried to control his erratic breathing, black spots darkening his vision momentarily. For some reasons, the pain throbbing in his muscles felt unpleasantly familiar.

It took him another little while to realize that the voices had stopped and there was someone moving about just outside the room. The fact that he had absolutely no knowledge of what was going on filled him with trepidation as he waited, staring at the solitary wooden door, head heavier than he ever remembered.

When it was pushed open from the other side, Athrun almost succeeded to agitate his muscles once more by trying to inch away from the door. Fortunately, he lacked the sufficient supply of energy to perform the action.

"Hey, you're awake."

A familiar face framed with golden hair appeared on the doorway and Athrun breathed out in relief. It was Cagalli. He would be alright. But doubt began to spawn again at the next second when he got a better look at the owner of the face and realized that something was not right. The young woman approaching him looked very much like Cagalli but somehow, there was something different about her and he noticed a moment later that it was the clothes she was wearing. He had to raise his eyebrows at this. Never in his life had he imagined the Lioness of ORB wearing anything like that, loose brown skirts and a faded flower-patterned shirt which strangely reminded him to a peasant girl.

Suddenly everything looked even more wrong than before.

"Cagalli?" he tried to pronounce her name and only succeeded to produce an incoherent mumbling sound.

"Wait, don't move," the Cagalli-look-alike moved quickly to his side and held his body down with her hand while the other flew to his forehead. She let out a relieved sigh and smiled down at him. "Thank God your fever has gone down. I almost thought you couldn't make it, but you seem okay now. There is no doctor here so I only rely on medical herbs."

Even the voice sounded exactly like Cagalli's despite its occasional high pitch. Athrun started to think that probably he was still dreaming and hadn't woken up yet.

"You–"

"Ah yes, sorry for not introducing myself," she smiled again and somehow it convinced him that this young woman was not the one he had known and befriended for years. "I'm Rakis and you're in my house. My uncle's house actually."

That confirmed it. Athrun stared at her, his bewilderment hadn't completely ebbed yet. She wasn't Cagalli but the definite resemblance was uncanny. Perhaps her hair was a little paler and the colour of a pair of eyes which were looking at him with keen interest was more of light brown than gold and her bearing was too free and cheerful compared to that of his friend, but everything else, from stature to voice, was an astonishing mirror of the ORB Representative.

"You're not Cagalli?"

"Just who or what is Cagalli?"

Deciding not to make an idiot out of himself more than he already had, Athrun stopped his questioning. Although rare, it was probable that there existed two people who looked alike despite not sharing the same DNA blueprint. "Never mind," he mumbled, looking down to his hands. Or maybe this was really a dream. His head still felt as heavy as lead, as if he had been drugged for days.

And then he remembered.

His intake of breath was sharp and his hands were shaking slightly, recollections coming back in torrents. He remembered the shuttle, the GINN, the endless floating in vast, never-ending space because the navigation module and booster were down. And the shot directed at his mobile suit from out of nowhere.

He should have been dead already. That shot should have destroyed his cockpit and he hadn't even worn a pilot suit.

_Meyrin._

"Don't move around yet!" The young woman – Rakis – warned him when he tried to get out of the bed. "You have broken ribs!"

That explained the familiar pain, Athrun thought as once again his body succumbed to the throbbing in his chest. It wasn't the first time his ribs took an abuse up to that level and this was decidedly worse because didn't she say there was no doctor here? He groaned, closing his eyes when an excruciating wave rocked his body, and settled back to the bed.

"I have to return," he tried to say firmly but his voice coming out faint and hoarse from lack of use – and shock. Meyrin. Gods. What if she died in the accident?

"Whatever it is, I'm sure it can wait," Rakis stated and came back with a glass of water. "I don't want a stranger dying in my house. Here, drink this."

Athrun shook his head and winced when a headache decided to assault along with the movement. "You don't understand," he said weakly. "I really must return."

"Drink it first," she insisted.

He heaved a long sigh but accepted her help to sit up and the glass. It wasn't water, he realized when the warm, sweet liquid moistened his lips and tongue and then his parched throat, its strange but calming scent erasing his nausea. Almost with relish, Athrun gulped everything down, suddenly conscious at how thirsty he had been. It must have been days since he had lost consciousness if the sluggishness in his muscles was anything to go by. To his relief, the warmth stayed in his stomach and cleared his head a little, although the pain did not completely ebb.

Rakis was looking at him curiously when he handed her the glass back. "Where are you from?" she asked bluntly.

Athrun shot a cursory glance at the girl and decided to put safety first. Two years of being the chairman of the Supreme Council taught him a lot about circumspection and discretion.

"ORB."

"Oh, that country," she huffed, a slightly disgusted look flitting across her face. The unexpected reaction made him frown, but she didn't seem to notice. "So you want to go back there?"

"Yes," he nodded. "Can you tell me what I should do to return to ORB?"

She put the glass on the table and dragged a chair to sit on next to his bed, on her face obvious concern that reminded him to his own friends. "Not to exaggerate or anything, but you're almost dead when I found you – when my uncle found you."

"I'm feeling better now," he said, not exactly lying because he _was_ feeling better – just not the kind of 'better' that would allow him walking around and making a journey back to ORB, wherever he was now. But details were not important. Not in this situation.

She raised her eyebrows, disbelief glaring back at him. "Yeah, right. Like I would believe that coming from someone who was unconscious for two days."

It made his jaw drop. "Two days?"

She looked at him oddly. "What do you expect? Two weeks?"

Athrun closed his mouth, unable to think of any respond. Maybe his sense of time was screwed, but it did feel more like two weeks than two days. And that still didn't explain how he could end up here when the last thing he remembered was the GINN's cockpit.

"About you going back to ORB," she spoke again, a careful note in her voice this time, "I'm sorry to disappoint, but the closest thing to transportation here is a horse cart."

The news made him feel like he had been doused with a shower of icy water. "A horse cart?" Athrun echoed, his insides growing cold.

"Yeah," she confirmed with a nod. "Sometimes there are people passing through this area with trucks or cars, but not at this season of the year. I'm afraid you have to wait. By the way, your name is?"

"Alex," he answered numbly, not yet done processing the information he had just received.

"Well then, Alex, do you want something to eat now?"

He shook his head, trying to chase away his desperation. "Where is this place actually?"

"A village. The closest town to here is Bellshill, and if you don't know where it is, let's just say somewhere in Western Eurasia. You crashed down near my uncle's field but he is away at the moment. He'll be back later tonight."

"I crashed down?" he repeated, his nausea returning.

"Yeah, in that big thing," she walked over to the window and pushed it open. Athrun sat up a little straighter, trying to see what was outside, and noticed a familiar wrecked bulk, a strange sight against the peaceful green backdrop. It was the GINN. So he had really crashed down in it. And survived.

"I saw it once in an old magazine," she said again, hostility nothing but evident in her voice. "Called mobile armor or something."

"Mobile suit," he corrected automatically.

She snorted. "Whatever. So you're a soldier?"

He sighed and leant back to the wooden headboard. "You can say that."

Rakis didn't say anything for a long time, her expression cold and unfriendly. Athrun suddenly felt tired and a new wave of headache was threatening at the edge of his consciousness. He could feel it coming and there was still nothing he could do about his head feeling like a big lump of lead.

He had been drugged, he was sure of it. It was even worse than that one time when he had come out of a big surgery, almost overdosed on anesthetic.

"Anyway, you can't go anywhere right now," she finally said, cutting his train of thought. "Even if you borrow my uncle's horse, you still have to recover first to ride him to the nearest town. Bellshill is three or four days of ride from here. Maybe you can find a car or something there."

"Is there really no other way?" Athrun knew he sounded desperate and didn't really care right now. There would be other times to hold up his chairman-ly poise.

"Maybe you think this is a backward, out-of-nowhere village," she snapped, sounding very angry so suddenly that it took him aback. "Well, it is. So what if we don't have cars or TVs. We don't want to get involved with the outer world and we are perfectly happy to be left alone. You came and brought that thing, all right. But don't you dare getting us caught up in your war."

He was left speechless for a few moments after the outburst, his mind seeing a girl whose angry face so similar to the one looking back at him right now. And Shinn. He used to blame Cagalli for what had happened to his family and it was the same hate outlining Rakis's face now. Disappointment. Vengeance.

"The war has ended," he heard himself saying weakly.

"Really?" she sneered, her eyes alight with cold fire. "Why haven't my parents returned then? They had been employed by the Eurasian Military before I could even remember their face and suddenly their letters stopped coming five years ago. What do you think the hell happened?"

 _They were dead._ "But the war has truly ended," he tried to argue, even with the painful knowledge that it was a pathetic line.

"ZAFT destroyed Artemis," Rakis practically spat the world as she stood up. "My parents were there, but I only found out a year later. Tell me how to forgive them. Tell me how to forgive those damn killers!"

He remained silent and she seemed to interpret it as a cue to continue her rampage. "Your country is no better either, I heard. Attacked by their own ally and still make the same mistake twice. Honestly, their representatives must be stupid."

The last sentence stirred something dormant within him, which he recognized as rage a second later. ORB suffered so much, and it hadn't even been their – Cagalli's – fault that they had chosen to align with OMNI Alliance during the second war. It had been the work of that idiot who belonged to the Seiran house. She had no right to accuse Cagalli when she didn't know anything.

But Rakis was hurt, and like Shinn had been once, it was her grief speaking. Perhaps she just didn't know that so much had changed. Perhaps it was convenient for her to remain oblivious because that way, she didn't have to forgive.

"ORB is doing its best to protect the peace," he finally said, his voice flat and neutral.

"Protect the peace?" she repeated, her whole body shaking with anger, and her voice escalated to a full shout. "My brother died trying to protect that country! He adored its ideal and look where it has gotten him! That Athha bastard!"

A pregnant silence followed with Athrun silently staring at the angry young woman and her glaring back at him. He wanted to disagree but noticed a framed picture on the table, a photo of a young man dressed in ORB Military uniform. This must be her brother's room and he had died, taken from her so suddenly and to her, unfairly. Athrun understood that pain. His mother. Nicol. And then his father. It was easier to keep hating. He understood that better than anyone else.

"It's Cagalli Yula Athha you were talking about," suddenly she stated, her voice just a little above a contemptuous whisper. "Isn't it?"

"Yes," he admitted heavily, not knowing what else to do. "You look like her."

For a second, Rakis looked like she was about to strangle him before storming out of the room, the door slammed loudly behind her. Left alone, Athrun closed his eyes, feeling worse than he had been ten minutes ago. His ribs were not protesting as much but an entirely different pain had taken the place. It was all lies, peace and everything they had been fighting for. What peace, if one's heart still could be ravaged by that great of hate.

Kira. Cagalli. Lacus.

_What are we doing?_

__  
**End Chapter 14  
**


	15. Athrun - Crossing Borders

  
Athrun had realized that there was something wrong since he had woken up and regained his consciousness five days ago.

Athrun had realized that he was most likely the only Coordinator in five miles radius later that night when Rakis's uncle had barged into his room and said – plainly threatened – "I know that's a fucking ZAFT mobile suit out there and don't you dare try anything suspicious, you damn freak monster from space, because that's the moment when I'm gonna shoot you dead."

Athrun had realized that he was probably the only one in that five-mile-radius who knew that he was the Chairman of PLANT's Supreme Council when the man had not shot him dead right away.

What he didn't know but desperately wanted to know was how the hell he had ended up here – or down here, looking at the circumstances. He had been floating in space and later shot, which must have rendered his GINN incapable to make a journey through the Earth atmosphere. It was impossible, but how else could he explain his being here now. He had tried digging up some information from Rakis once the girl had returned to speaking term with him again, but everything he got so far was useless in that department.

And there was the time gap. According to Rakis, he had been unconscious for two days since she had found him. He had left ORB on September 16 and today was October 6, which meant that there were fourteen days in between when he had not the slightest idea where he had been and what he had been doing. The idea was unnerving to him and rather ridiculous when he thought about it again, but he didn't see why Rakis would lie to him either.

Another conflicting factor was one of these many new injuries decorating his body. There was a large gash on his midsection and he seemed to remember a sharp, terrible pain after the shot had hit his mobile suit. Assuming that he really had been severely injured that time, the presence of a scar was perfectly justifiable. What he found strange was the fact that it had healed. Completely. And he knew for sure that a gash that big didn't heal completely in one week. Athrun knew his own body inside out and despite the superiority of Coordinator's recovering capacity, for a deep nasty wound to leave nothing but a barely itching scar in seven days was plain impossible.

There were gaps, lost times in his memory and there was nothing he wouldn't give right now to find out what in the world had happened.

' _You know the beauty of not knowing?'_ Kira had once said to him when he had protested having his eyes covered in order to get his birthday present, firm arms around his waist and a chuckle tickling his ears. ' _When you don't know, hope lives.'_

"But in this case, Kira," he said loudly to the room, "I want to know."

Great. Now he was talking to himself.

Athrun rose from the bed and walked to the window, his loosely tied hair a familiar but nagging presence against his back. The GINN was still there, a discordant picture framed by the window, looking grim under the gray overcast sky as wind rippled faraway rows and columns of trees. He had spent the last five days lying on his bed and thinking, particularly about what Rakis had said to him. Every time he thought about it, Athrun only became more and more enraged to himself.

He was unaware, too oblivious to the fact that there was still so much hate in this so-called new era. Maybe it was because he had been looking at the world from a high pedestal, being the chairman and all. Strategies became the foremost in his mind, more than the actual deeds. And then, somewhere along the line, everything had started to fade into a blend of a giant chessboard, pawns and rooks and kings. Somewhere during his reign as the chairman, he had begun to forget those little things – sadness, pain, loss, despair. They were little, maybe unnoticeable at times, but he knew that they were important because it was those feelings that made human, human. There was no excuse to his ignorance. He was a leader. If he didn't even know these things, he was unfit to lead a country.

Athrun sighed and propped his elbows on the windowsill. He had to do something about this, but what? He knew that nothing could compensate the lost life of a loved one. That was why he had worked hard in the academy and afterward in ZAFT with an almost bitter diligence after the Bloody Valentine incident, why he had almost killed Kira after Nicol's death. Rakis was angry. Everybody here was angry.

Maybe he should try talking to them. Not as the Chairman of PLANT, just him, Athrun Zala, someone who wanted to make the world a better place. He chuckled, the sound sarcastic even to his ears. The idea felt far away, close to ridiculous at the moment considering the situation he was currently in and this place he had fallen into, this middle of nowhere.

Which might be not as middle-of-nowhere as it seemed. Athrun frowned as his instinct prickled for the umpteenth time in the last five days. Something told him – his honed soldier instinct probably – that he was being watched, that when he was alone in this room, there was an unseen eye watching his every move. But something – again, most likely his soldier instinct – also prevented him from directly looking to the corners of the room where hidden cameras and the likes were usually installed.

Because if his intuition was correct, he would rather not hand his observer the knowledge that he knew. One never knew. He might be able to use that to his advantage in the near future.

To be fair, it was only entirely too possible that he was wrong, that the whole thing was just the result of his paranoia being in a place he wasn't familiar with. But the feeling kept bothering him. He was itching for a weapon, anything to defend himself because his suspicion made him very uncomfortable and wary. Get out of this room, Athrun told himself as he stared at the broken mobile suit. Check the GINN.

The house was empty, grimly silent when he stepped out of his temporary bedroom, almost as if it didn't appreciate his presence. That was paranoia again speaking, he firmly reproached that part of him, and went to the front door, his feet a little stiff still in their first actual employment after almost three weeks of lying around. He chose not to contradict the last sentence for now, not before he could remember what had actually happened in the first half of the time set.

It felt good to be outside after being forced to stay in bed for so long. The wind brought a faint smell of rain, which he inhaled with a sense of contentment. Athrun had always loved rain, like his mother when she had been still alive. It cleaned the air, she had always said as they sat by the window, looking outside to either a drizzle or torrent, waiting for his father to come home.

The memory was heartwarming and Athrun was glad that he could still remember – his mother's smile soothing his disappointment and fear, his father's warm, big hand clasping his little one. They were beautiful and he kept them neatly in the locked drawers of his mind because they were too beautiful, so much that it pained him to look back at them and remember. Those were the things that time and conflicts and wars, the brutal attestations of human's carelessness, had taken away from him. No matter what he did, he couldn't have them back. His mother had died and his father had turned away from him.

Or maybe it was him who had turned away from his father. Athrun felt a familiar wave of hatred and guilt lapping the shore of his consciousness. He hated to remember. It was because Patrick Zala had loved his son dearly once – that small kiss on the top of his head when he had come home late and found him already asleep, that smile he could not help but to give when Athrun had shown him a report card with straight A's – that the bullet, the betrayal hurt more than anything.

At least fate still spared him one of them. Kira was a part of his childhood that survived and sometimes it made Athrun wonder if his attachment to that childhood friend of his was rooted deeper than just first love.

"Where do you think you are going?"

He turned around, surprised that he didn't hear her coming but quickly recovered and gave Rakis a smile. "For a walk. Four days in bed and now I really miss the outside world. Or am I not allowed?"

"I suppose you're getting better," she admitted, fingers playing with the end of her green shirt. "You want me to go with you?"

Athrun shook his head. "Thank you, but I want to be alone for a little while."

Rakis raised her eyebrows. "Four days in bed and you aren't bored being alone?"

"If you really want to come with me–"

"Alright, I got the message," she cut off with a sigh and shot him a dark look. "I was just trying to help, you know. Everybody in this village doesn't like strangers. I don't want you to end up dead after all those efforts I made to keep you alive. Anyway, just remember to return before sunset. You don't want to be out there after dark." She paused and suddenly her face brightened like she had just remembered something. "Hey, why don't you take a look at Carrot first?"

It was his turn to raise his brow. "Carrot as in..." he trailed off, unsure what to say next.

"My horse."

 _Her horse. Okay._ "Uh, well..."

Rakis was quick to pick up his discomfort and on the next second, there was already an incredulous look etched on her face. "You don't know how to ride a horse," she stated, sounding so shocked that Athrun couldn't help a little sheepish grin.

"Caught red-handed."

"How is it possible that you know how to ride a mobile suit, but not a horse?"

He offered her an innocent smile. "Conflict of interest?"

"Oh, go away," she waved a hand with a huff and turned to the house. Athrun walked away as ordered, still smiling. Sometimes she really reminded him to Cagalli, her wits especially, which was strange because on other occasions, she would seem just like one of those blushing girls he usually tried to avoid at all costs.

Still, Rakis was smart. It would be a waste for her to stay hidden in this village forever. With a little more education and proper polish, he could easily picture her running a company or even working her way up in politics.

And _what_ on earth was he thinking? Athrun restrained an urge to hit himself on the head. He didn't even like politics and now he was thinking of dragging another into that dark black hole of scheme and deceit? Surely he had more decency than that.

Politics was, though necessary, despicable in his opinion. He didn't like it and honestly it had never been his field in the first place. He was only trying his best to keep up because his friends had put their trust in him – and if he were to really, really admit to himself, also because he _was_ Athrun Zala, the son of the man who had almost succeeded to open the last door to total chaos. It was a debt, and as much as Cagalli had tried to convince him the otherwise, to him it was still a debt and he intended to pay it.

They didn't call him stubborn for nothing.

And so he had strived to reach the chairman's seat. Athrun was not surprised when he had finally done it because Lacus had been sitting there, giving him one of her warmest smiles as the election committee made their announcement. He wasn't afraid – anxious maybe, but not afraid – because he knew that he had friends who would give him their full support. He even had gone as far as thinking that he had done quite a decent job until Rakis's words came and slapped him in the face.

It would be one, among other things, he had to consider once he had returned, Athrun promised himself as he made his way to the ruined mobile suit. But first of all, he had to solve the returning-to-civilization problem first. And then he had to do something about this mess. He looked around guiltily, noticing the amount of damage caused by his mobile suit to the surrounding field and trees. He had expected something worse, but this must be enough to add another reason for Rakis's uncle to hate him and Coordinators in general.

It was then when something caught his attention. Athrun frowned, looking at the mobile suit's hatch, and climbed up for a closer inspection. Its left arm was completely destroyed, which was quite understandable if it had been hit by that one shot he had seen before blacking out. The problem was, this one had not been destroyed by a laser beam like he remembered. The remains of said left arm seemed more like a victim to missiles than anything else, which was strange because Athrun did not make a habit out of doubting his own memory. It really had been a laser beam.

The cockpit was mostly intact and as he leaned in to perform a little search, he noticed something which should not have been there. On the top right corner of the control screen, there was a scratch, small but noticeable. It had not been there after the accident, and he remembered because he had been staring at the screen during the endless floating. So why was it there now? _Debris flying around after the shot went home?_ It could be, although the scratch was much too clean, too neat, almost like the result of someone's boredom with the aid of a pocket knife.

What was going on?

Athrun jumped down, ignoring the slight protest his ribs made at the action, and stared at the purple-coloured mobile suit. He frowned. The more he stared at it, the more foreign it became to his eyes. This was not his GINN. He had been a soldier for years and he knew how to recognize mobile suits one from another, even if they had the same design.

To make sure, he circled the GINN once, taking in every detail and frowning at things he found odd. This one did have the signs of experiencing a fall through the atmosphere, but other than that Athrun was convinced that he was not looking at the mobile suit which had saved his life.

Alone.

Right, he should not forget that. Athrun felt his anger bubbling up every time he thought about it. He should have asked Meyrin to come with him. Or everyone else in the shuttle in that case. Even better, he should not have demanded to return at once. He should have remained in ORB and stayed true to the schedule. He could have done a million things to prevent the accident.

Or did they manage to escape? But the explosion was big and he doubted anyone could escape from it alive. Even his own survival was still a mystery to him. And what about the others at ORB – Kira, Cagalli, Shinn, Lacus. They couldn't possibly know that he was still alive.

The thought brought a lump to his throat and Athrun walked away from the crash site into an area overgrown by trees, tall and green still at the beginning of autumn. He couldn't make a contact with the outside world because there was simply no means to establish any contact. No telephone in this village, he had asked Rakis about it, and his cell phone's whereabouts was also currently unknown, along with the council robe he had been wearing prior to the accident. Not that there would be signal in this place anyway. It was frustrating, but what could he say to the person who had been so kind to let him stay and recover in her house? Rakis – and her uncle too in that matter – could have just let him rot in his cockpit if they wanted to.

But this was ridiculous and he was growing desperate. How was it possible that there still existed a place where lives could go on without phone lines or televisions, totally isolated from the world? It was crazy, unthinkable. But then again, this was the big blue Earth, the very witness of human's ability to survive more than two million years without any of those he had mentioned above, so it was probably a moot point. He had been born at PLANT and it was a fact that Coordinators lived really close with, if not depended on, technology. It might have just plain escaped his mind that there were places like this still on Earth.

He should have learned how to ride a horse that one time when Kira had come up with the idea out of the blue. It was during their field trip to Earth and the opportunity had been there waiting for their taking, but Athrun, ten years old and very much intimidated by animals bigger than dogs, had flat out refused.

Maybe he could try. Like Rakis said, he could ride a mobile suit, so how much a challenge could a horse present to him really? Or the horse cart. Yes, the horse cart started to sound like a really good idea–

And at that moment, Athrun felt his heart suddenly stop beating.

Thunder rumbled in the distance but his whole attention was currently held prisoner by a young man with dark brown hair standing not far from where he was. Athrun could not see his face and he was too shocked to give a real voice to the screaming in his head, but he knew.

He knew it was Kira.

The other man slipped out of his sight behind a cluster of trees and Athrun broke into a run, his body hot with hope and cold with fear. It was Kira. It must be Kira. He might have mistaken Rakis for Cagalli, but Kira was an entirely different matter. He had recognized Kira at first glance in Heliopolis after not seeing each other for almost three years. Athrun knew that he would not be able to mistake someone else for Kira even if he wanted to.

But even as he whispered convictions to himself, he began to feel uncertain. He didn't see anyone and his surroundings sounded as quiet as it had ever been. Still, Athrun continued to search. The only remaining explanation was that he had, to put it shortly and frankly, hallucinated and he was not really ready to go there yet. There might be some other explanation.

At the end of the forest was the main road of the village, but there was no one on the road as far as his eyes could see. At the other side of the road were a number of houses, similar to the one he had been intruding upon these past few days. Intent on finding his friend – or any explanation to his fleeting daydream, if it was the case – Athrun crossed the road and walked past the nearest dwelling, every thought of caution already thrown out of the window. At this moment, he could hardly gave a damn if he were to get caught by mean villagers whose greatest desire was to see a Coordinator lying dead at their feet.

"This is too dangerous!"

The voice was loud, angry and instinctively Athrun slipped behind the nearest house. It was Rakis's uncle. He knew for sure because it was him who had been on the receiving end of that tone of voice five days ago. From his hiding place, he couldn't see anyone but there was a low voice answering, too low for him to hear what it was saying.

But it definitely wasn't Kira's voice. Had he really been imagining things?

"You know that he's recovering, don't you?" Rakis's uncle said again, obviously still in rage. "In three or four more days, there will no one here who can stand up fairly against him! He's a Coordinator for god's sakes!"

So they were talking about him. Athrun could feel his suspicion once again stirred into full alert. The way that man put him in the conversation was like talking about a prisoner, and maybe that was exactly what he was here. A prisoner. He pressed himself closer to the house, mindful to a window just a feet away from where he was hiding, and attempted a little peek over the wall. Nothing. He could only see trees in the background and nothing of the talkers. His guess was that there was a backdoor to the house and they were standing in front of it if not on the threshold.

Something was said in response by the second voice but Athrun could only catch the word 'time' and 'trouble' after listening intently. It was not long before Rakis's uncle cut in again.

"I don't care! You can drug him or something! Just keep him under control!"

His company hissed something which almost sounded like 'PLANT', but for the third time he was interrupted.

"Well, tell your boss that I don't fucking care! If he doesn't do anything in three days, don't blame me if that guy escapes or tries to take someone hostage!" A pause and then Rakis's uncle continued with an even sharper tone of voice. "Remember, I may just have to shoot him if he does something funny. He won't be much useful to us dead, will he?"

The dialogue was ended brusquely and there were sounds of footsteps distancing, soon eclipsed more howling of the wind. Athrun remained rooted to the ground, breathing suddenly a heavy work as the earlier conversation echoed in his head. This of course was not the first time he had encountered an attempt to take his life – the shuttle accident had obviously been another – but something about the whole matter unnerved him. Perhaps it was the apparent hate in the man's voice. Perhaps it was the fact that he was alone, friendless in this unknown zone of Coordinator-haters and worse still, defenseless.

Or perhaps he was becoming weak.

Sliding to the ground, Athrun held his bowed head between his hands as the first few drops of rain fell onto the earth. Very few things frightened him and he knew for sure that he could take them head on if he had to, no matter what the circumstances were. This one was different. He could already feel his body shaking and it was not from the cold drizzle.

He couldn't go back, not after what he had heard. He wouldn't be able to talk with Rakis without thinking that they were lies coming out of her mouth. He wouldn't be able to look at the food she had laid out on the table without suspecting that there were drugs in there. He wouldn't be able to sleep at night without worrying that her uncle would storm in after midnight and put a bullet in his head. But without her help, how could he find his way back home? His options were limited and now he was running out of them.

In the end, there were two roads ahead of him and he was required to choose one. The first was going back and enduring everything mentioned above while trying to get Rakis to help him – to _really_ help him. Before that though, he needed to get past the stage of convincing himself that she would want to help, which was a very big hurdle from his current standpoint. The second option was to find a way out of here by himself with the risk of getting lost and stranded in this alien ground for even a longer time. His almost nonexistent knowledge of the area aside, Rakis had mentioned that people rarely passed this part of the world, which only swelled the 'getting lost and stranded' prospect.

If he didn't look too closely, the first option was better than the second. His fear might be simply a result of paranoia – his and everybody else's, including Rakis's uncles whose better judgment appeared to be clouded by his animosity toward Coordinators. However, in light of the dialogue he had eavesdropped just a few minutes ago, staying around even for just a little while longer could as well mean as waiting for them to come with knives and manacles.

Athrun brushed dark wet bangs out of his sightline, the two choices still battling inside his head. The white T-shirt Rakis had lent him was sticking to his skin as he continued to sit under the downpour, no longer aware of the harsh beating of the rain. He had to choose. Gods, what he wouldn't give in this world to have his friends with him now.

 _Kira._ _Damn it, Kira._

" _Don't worry. It's going to be okay."_

And now he was hearing Kira's voice. Athrun felt a small bitter smile on his lips. He was starting to hallucinate and really, he couldn't say that he was surprised. This place was hell. He needed to get out of here before he lost another shred of sanity.

He had to return to ORB.

"There he is!"

The shout made him turn his head and he saw a number of men pointing and running to his direction, guns in their hands. His first instinct told him to get up and run and Athrun did just that. The ground was slippery and raindrops were whipping his cheeks like cold talons as he increased his speed, but right now, he couldn't bring himself to care. The only thing in his mind was how to make a bigger distance between him and those bullet-spluttering weapons. He might be a Coordinator and a seasoned soldier, but it still hurt to get shot no matter how often he had repeated the experience.

They were losing him, Athrun realized when his ears could no longer catch any sound but the pouring rain and his frantic footfalls, mingling with his quick breathing. He slowed down a little and grimaced when his ribs finally decided to announce that they had not exactly recovered to full health yet. However, there was no telling if the pursuers were still on his trail or not and so he maintained the pace, quiet and wary.

It was until he noticed a tall presence obstructing his way. Athrun stopped, eyeing the high fence before him – and a series of malicious-looking barbed wire sitting on the very top of it – in astonishment. It was at least twenty feet high, but why would a small, remote village like this have a circle of fence this high on its border? If it was to keep outsiders out, the effort seemed way over-the-top. Or was he actually about to enter a new, restricted area?

Whatever it was, this was not the time and place to linger and contemplate, he realized when the sound of his pursuers closing in was registered by his auditory system. Without a single glance back, he climbed the fence deftly, thankful that his limbs had not yet forgotten their years and years of ZAFT training. The top was tricky but he managed to maneuver his way over the wire and jumped down, wincing when a few strands of his long hair were caught by the pointed tips.

He continued the mad sprinting as his ears caught a few curses spat by the chasers from the other side of the fence. Athrun had never been more grateful that he had been born as a Coordinator than when he looked back and discovered that none of his pursuers could repeat the performance he had just made. He couldn't help but to sigh, newfound relief washing all over him. Now he only needed to hope that the entrance was nowhere nearby, preferably at the other side of the village.

The sentiment, however, only lasted until Athrun noticed that he was surrounded by nothing but trees and more trees, big and menacing they looked in the murky weather. Their thick canopy protected him from the torrent's onslaught, but it also forbade him to make out where he was going in this new forest. His sprint turned into a complete halt once he realized that he had been running blindly for a while. He turned around and realized that to find his way back would be a very difficult task if not near impossible.

 _Just perfect._ Now he was lost.

Almost on impulse, Athrun wound his arms around himself, feeling much lonelier than before. He continued to walk slowly for a while, hoping that he was going to the right direction as his eyes darted around anxiously to detect anything, ears straining to catch the slightest sound. But the forest was silent, aloof, nothing but trees, leaves and raindrops. He had an urge to call out in hope that there was someone in the vicinity, but caution forced him not to take that road. Even if there really was somebody to hear his shouting, there was no way he could tell whether he was revealing his whereabouts to a friend or a foe instead.

Alone, lost in the darkening woods, Athrun realized that he might not be able to find his way out. Who knows how long he would be forced to survive in here without practically anything. Silently he cursed his stupidity that succumbed to his sudden impulse to run earlier. Maybe those men were just trying to bring him back, even if they looked slightly murderous. He had overreacted because of the guns.

It was ironic, but he really had the strangest urge to laugh when he thought about dying in this middle-of-nowhere. It seemed that he was just postponing his death when he had escaped the shuttle explosion. Fate must be laughing at him now. It would end the same no matter what, no matter how far he tried to run.

He continued to walk, no longer paying attention to his surrounding. Slowly but surely, the picture of him back among his friends began to blur. Athrun wanted to hit himself. He could have been more careful and thus avoided the whole mess. Now he might not be able to see them again.

He wondered if Kira would miss him.

Too caught up in his dark thoughts, he didn't notice the sound of a car speeding to his direction, neither did he realize that he had stumble upon a small road. When he finally came back to his senses, the car was already a feet away from his body. He automatically jumped to avoid a collision, but it was too late by a fraction of a second and his body collided with the car's hood and hit the muddy ground afterward with a loud splash.

Pain exploded in his right arm and Athrun thought for a moment that he really was going to die. But then it cleared a little, allowing a little sense to seep back into his mind, and he vaguely heard the car's door being opened, then closed, and hurried footsteps on the wet soil approaching.

_Oh, damn it all to hell. Just let them come._

"Are you alright?"

He struggled to sit up, still wary despite the obvious concern in the driver's voice, and looked up.

"Gods. Athrun Zala?"

  
_**End Chapter 15  
** _


	16. Ssigh - Caught in the Storm

  
Ssigh ran through mid-October drizzle, careful to keep his feet from slipping on the cobblestone path leading to the hotel's entrance. It was more like an inn than a hotel, he reflected as he noticed a small wooden plank showered by a dim yellow light from a lantern-like lamp overhead. The front door produced a creaking sound when he pushed it open, but any concern about it was quickly forgotten as he stepped into the hotel, the warm atmosphere a stark contrast to the heavy torrent and ruthless wind outside.

A bored-looking girl with long brown hair tied in a high ponytail was sitting behind the front desk, her chin propped by a hand as the other doodled something on a piece of paper. She looked up when he approached and stood up, smiling brightly.

"Welcome, Sir. You need a room for the night? It's a nasty rain out there."

Ssigh took off his eyeglasses, wiping them with the front of his shirt, and nodded. "Yes. Two rooms if it's possible, for me and my friend."

Her smile dimmed a little. "Uh, sorry, Sir, but we only have two single rooms and they're all currently out. But what about the twin rooms? They're still available if you want."

"Alright, we'll take that," he said quickly. Anything was better than spending a raining night in his car.

She quickly recovered her smile. "Okay then. And your name, Sir?"

"Ssigh Argyle."

She wrote it down quickly in a big, thick-covered book and fished out a key numbered 09 from her drawer. "I can show you the way to your room now, Sir. And your friend?"

"I'll fetch him," he told her.

Reluctant but aware that he should hurry, Ssigh walked back outside and let his serge jacket once again be a prey to the violent downpour. His rented car was parked in a small piece of vacant land next to the hotel's building along with two other vehicles. Must be avoiding the storm, Ssigh thought as he crossed the muddy ground, just like they were. The fog was thin now, but from past experiences, he knew it was bound to change soon.

He knocked on his car's window to notify Athrun who was sitting in the passenger seat. The blue-haired man was wearing his grey sweater since the white T-shirt he had been wearing was wet and splashed with mud. He looked up at Ssigh's coming and opened the car's door.

"We get a room," Ssigh told him. "A twin room actually. I hope it's okay with you."

"It's fine, thanks," Athrun replied quietly and got out of the shelter of the car. "And please call me Alex for now, Ssigh."

"Okay," he nodded uncomfortably, "Alex."

Athrun shot him a grateful smile and put the hood a little tighter around his head, which Ssigh realized had very little to do with the pouring rain. The Chairman of PLANT had been in a deeply anxious state since their accidental second meeting after the first war where they had been fighting together for a brief period of time. He had kept his face down during the entire journey here, only glancing at Ssigh when he was replying to his questions. He didn't want to be recognized, Ssigh had finally arrived at this conclusion after they had arrived in this village and quickly insisted that Athrun should stay in the car while he was inquiring about their rooms for the night.

He had seen the other man often in the newspaper or on television, even more so in the last two weeks when the news of an accident involving him had taken the headlines everywhere. Ssigh remembered wondering about Kira and even considering a call, but then realized that he didn't know his old friend's number. He and Athrun seemed like such good friends and every time they had gone out there in their mobile suits, it had never failed to awe Ssigh.

But in the end of the war, they had gone their separate ways. He had heard of the Archangel's reemergence during the second war and a part of him had wanted to go back, to fight for what he believed again, but he had a future ahead of him – bright, a lot less dangerous – and Ssigh had made his choice. Still, he had been relieved when he heard that Archangel had once more proved that miracles did exist and survived.

Everything was settled. The world started to recover and atone for its past mistakes. He had gotten a job at the International Bank in Bern and earned a promotion to a managerial position a year ago. He continued working hard, sometimes too hard, even during the holidays that his supervisor plainly ordered him to take a few days off. _You're gonna have my position in six months,_ she had said firmly, _so don't work your ass off or I'll be forced to reconsider._

He had agreed with a little smile. Ssigh had always loved traveling and his mind soon already brewed a plan. He liked visiting places he had never gone to, only accompanied by his own car and a stack of CDs from his collection at home. His mother called it an adventurous-streak-that-will-kill-my-son-someday and fretted a little when he had told her about his going out into the wild, but finally relented once he promised her that he would come home for Christmas.

Never once Ssigh imagined that he would run into Athrun in his little adventure. Transylvania was a quiet corner of the world and he had been cruising through its most remote parts when his car almost had almost done the unforgivable by injuring the Chairman of PLANT. When it had turned out to be no more than a sprained arm, Ssigh couldn't say enough how relieved he was. The appendage in question seemed to be better now, although he couldn't say for sure since his passenger had stayed relatively quiet during the journey.

They crossed the rain again after Ssigh took his big rucksack from the backseat. The girl was still waiting at the front desk, her eyes brightening and her smile widening when she saw Athrun. Ssigh wanted to raise eyebrows at this but decided not to. Right now, the blue-haired Coordinator needed support and not teasing.

Their room was the second one at the top of the staircase, a small but cozy space with two beds, a desk and a chair, a wardrobe big enough to fit a person inside it and a window that overlooked to the road. He was pleased to find that the room was quite clean, unlike some of the inns he had been forced to spend his previous nights in. The girl was explaining their extra services excitedly – including breakfast but not dinner unfortunately – and was visibly pouring all her attention to his traveling companion. Ssigh hid a little smile and walked over to the window.

Raindrops were still fiercely beating everything outside, making the world look like it was seen from behind a broken glass. At least the windowpane wasn't really broken, he consoled himself, although it was obvious that their journey tomorrow would be slower and more difficult. Sludge and mud had never been a good friend to a traveler, but he was reasonably prepared for them.

Before that though, they needed a plan. He only hoped that Athrun had come up with one.

Ssigh was relieved when the girl closed the door with a warm wish of goodnight and finally left them alone, a sentiment that was evidently shared by his roommate. Athrun looked tired and his long hair was still damp and sprinkled with dried mud when he loosened the tie. Still, Ssigh found himself staring. The chairman was truly a picture to behold, one that a master painter would desire to express with his brush, and while he had already been very good-looking when he was sixteen, Ssigh didn't remember him being affected as much as this. It was like seeing the Coordinator with a different pair of glasses, better, newer, because he must have been near blind six years ago. Or it could be the light, the not-too-bright but soft golden light enveloping the room that lessened the ghostly paleness of Athrun's skin and added a little touch of ethereality.

Disturbingly attractive.

It was then when Ssigh decided that his thoughts had strayed far enough. Doing all he could to hold off the blush which was threatening to take over his face, he put down his bag on the floor next to the chair with as much noise as possible and cleared his throat, drawing the other man's attention.

"I'll go buy some dinner for us," he said, feeling awkward when those emerald eyes settled on his. He really had to get out of this room. Maybe a little rain would do him good.

"It's raining cats-and-dogs out there," his companion told him, a disapproving note in his voice.

"We still have to eat," he responded with a shrug that hopefully looked nonchalant enough. "I'll borrow an umbrella downstairs. You should go wash yourself off those mud and stuff. And take care of that arm of yours."

For a moment Athrun only looked at him, his expression unreadable, and what followed five seconds later was a quiet whisper. "Thank you."

He nodded quickly and made the getaway, only to turn around at the threshold because something was bugging him about it, and declare, "Listen, you don't have to act so formal around me. It isn't like we don't know each other. Maybe we didn't talk much back then, but you're a good friend of Kira and I do consider you a friend. So don't feel indebted or anything, okay? I'm just trying to help and–" He paused and the realization that he was speaking with _the_ Chairman of PLANT dawned on him along with horror with the approximate weight of a meteor.

He grimaced. "I'm not allowed to speak that way to you, am I?"

"Ssigh," Athrun looked amused but there was something else in his eyes that spoke of much more solemn gravity, "you're the one who helps me out. Obviously I'm in no position to tell you in what way you can speak to me."

A good point, but Ssigh refused to get his hopes up too high while there was still an unopened card on the table. "So we're friends?" he tried tentatively.

"If you will have me as your friend." Athrun's smile was soft and Ssigh knew that he had to get out of the room fast.

"Okay, so that's a deal," he said, too hurried to his liking but honestly he seemed to have misplaced his ability to care at the moment. "Now I'll go buy our food."

He was practically running down the stairs during his attempt of escape, though from what he wasn't exactly sure. It would be ridiculous to say that he was running from Athrun, even if he was talking about the eminent Chairman of PLANT who could easily order a group of mobile suits to raze a small country on Earth. That wasn't it at all, but then again, Ssigh didn't think he needed to know right now.

The pony-tailed girl was still sitting behind the front desk when he appeared from the stairs. Before she could open her mouth, he had asked, "I'm sorry, Miss, but do you know where I can buy dinner around here?"

"The store has closed up for the day but there is a diner just across the street," she answered, pointing at the general direction of the street. "It's still open until eleven and the food is really good. I can take the order and run over there if you want, Sir."

"No, thank you, I think I'll go myself but if you have an umbrella it will be a big help," he said quickly. Call him conservative, but Ssigh would never, ever ask a girl to cross so ferocious a storm when he still could do it himself. "And can I have some ice delivered to my room?" he added a moment later. "My friend sprained his arm earlier."

She smiled sweetly, handing him the requested umbrella. "Certainly, Sir."

"Thanks a lot," he nodded at her and prepared to go outside. The umbrella was dark green, the kind of green which Ssigh would throw to the back of his closet and not bother to look at again for the next five years or so, but at least it was quite big. The rain had intensified but he was able to squeeze himself under the umbrella without too much difficulty.

Visibility was another matter entirely. The whole road was rather dark and the downpour obviously didn't help as it spattered raindrops of various sizes onto his glasses on a regular basis. The first building he noticed was dark and no matter how hard he squinted, Ssigh couldn't make out what was written on the plank above. He trudged along and arrived in front of the second. This one had its light still on and he saw that on the door was hung an 'open' sign. Counting on his luck – what the worst it could be anyway – he pushed the door open and went in.

Inside, a man was standing behind the bar and another was sitting on a stool, reading a newspaper. Both men looked up at his entrance and the first nodded toward his umbrella.

"Just leave it there. You're ordering anything?"

"Yes, please," he quickly answered, running his gaze over to the small blackboard sitting on the long table with a few selections of dishes written on it. "Can I have two take-out orders of cheeseburger and fries? And two cups of hot coffee too."

"Coming right up," the man nodded and disappeared to the back room, which Ssigh assumed was the kitchen. He looked around, taking in the homely interior, and decided to take a seat two stools away from the only other customer of the diner. It was a man in his mid fifties with brown hair stippled with grey, probably another traveler whose journey had been delayed by the rainstorm. He glanced up from his reading material as Ssigh sat himself down and smiled a little.

"Getting away from the rain too?"

"Yes, it's pretty nasty out there," Ssigh answered after a moment of hesitance. The other man nodded and folded his newspaper, returning to the front page.

"Yeah. I only hope it'll let up a bit in the morning. Nice choice, by the way."

He blinked. "I'm sorry?"

His companion waved toward the kitchen door. "The cheeseburger. It's excellent, I've just had one myself. You won't regret it."

Ssigh gave him a polite smile and turned his attention to the small TV at the corner of the room. This day had been very tiring for him and he wasn't exactly looking for a conversation with a total stranger. Besides, the TV was broadcasting late night news. He tried to listen as the reporter announced that investigation was continued on the Cygnusia case. The process to identify the bodies was currently underway and there were people who had claimed that a family member might be among the victims. Ssigh suppressed a shiver. He couldn't imagine how it felt to find out that a person close to you had died in a way so horrible.

That reminded him, he should call his parents as soon as his cell phone could work again, at least to tell them that he was well even if soaked to the bone. If not, he could ask the girl if there was a payphone in the hotel.

The next topic was about PLANT and the repetitive news that their chairman had not been found. Ssigh had to resist a smile at this one. He wondered idly how much the media would pay to know what he knew right now. Five or six digit numbers was a big possibility if he were any judge to the insatiable nature of the press. And speaking of the media, he had to buy a newspaper. Maybe tomorrow when the grocery store had opened. Athrun would want to know what was going on.

The man next to him heaved a deep sigh and Ssigh felt his gaze involuntarily drifted to the source of the sound.

"So he wasn't found yet," his companion muttered, sounding very much unhappy, his eyes never leaving the television.

 _Well, he's here_ , was what Ssigh wanted to say, but he settled for a noncommittal hum. His interest, however, was tickled by the remark and he continued to stare at the man, expecting him to say more.

"It's too bad if he really died in that accident," he said again, still with the same dejected tone. "There's a good man if I ever saw one."

"Have you ever met him, Sir?" Ssigh finally asked.

"Not face-to-face, no, but I've been there at PLANT a couple of times," his companion answered ruefully. "I owe him big time."

Ssigh waited and was not disappointed when the older man looked at him again and plunged into a deep, contemplative narrative. "My second son is a soldier. There was this terrorist outbreak in South America about a year ago and he got sent there with his platoon in a joint operation with PLANT. There was an ambush and some of them were captured, including my son. Do you know what Zala did? He got down there and did the negotiation himself. I ain't exaggerating if I said that he saved my son's life through sheer charisma."

Ssigh put a hand under his chin, vague recollections about the incident popping up in his head. "Yes, I think I remember that on the news," he said slowly. "He must be very good at it."

"Obviously, and now my son is still alive because of him. I can't thank him enough," the man murmured, shaking his head. "He cares, you see. He cares about people, Natural or Coordinator doesn't matter. You just get that impression out of him. Sadly, there aren't many leaders like him out there."

Ssigh didn't say anything and only stared at the half-filled cup in front of the man. He knew why Athrun would do it. The chairman had been once in the position of a soldier and he knew how they felt. As a matter of fact, many leaders and great politicians did have that knowledge. The only difference was some were willing to do something about it while the rest were not, content to pretend that it didn't exist. And sadly, like his companion said, not many belonged to the first group.

But Athrun had always been like that, he reflected, even when he was only a boy of sixteen, on board of Archangel. In this case, he was no different from Kira. They had a habit to take loads of responsibilities, more than they could actually handle, which sometimes frustrated people around them who couldn't really say anything because the only options were that or die. But the amazing thing was, they always managed to do it in the end, although the condition they ended up in was usually far from good.

And apparently the habit didn't disappear with age.

"Maybe that's why he was targeted," Ssigh mumbled, only half-aware that he had actually said it out loud.

"I dare say you're right," the other man was nodding his head vigorously. "People like him surely have many enemies in this kind of world we're living in. But you know, he was one of those who stopped two world wars and it's hard to think that there are people who still don't like him."

Actually Ssigh was able to mention a few of them but their conversation was interrupted by the return of the owner. Two paper bags were set on the table in front of him and he stood up to pay, a bad feeling trapping him out of nowhere. Suddenly leaving Athrun alone in their hotel room didn't seem to be a good idea. He said goodbye to his new acquaintance in a hurry and rushed out, almost forgetting his umbrella in process. To find his way back to the hotel was not difficult, but keeping the paper bags secure from the lashing rain with one hand proved to be quite a challenge.

The pony-tailed girl was not there when he and his dinner had arrived at the hotel undamaged, the only obvious victim his sneakers which had forfeited their beige colour for something much grimmer. A shame, but he had other priorities right now. He left the umbrella near the entrance and sped up the stairs. _You are being ridiculous,_ a dry voice told him and Ssigh had to admit that it was right. No one knew that Athrun was here and it wasn't as if there was a reporter in town or something.

A reporter?

The idea struck him so suddenly that he almost tripped himself over the last step. All previous worry already forgotten, he barged into their room and said, "Alex, listen, I think–" he paused, taking in the sight in front of him, and asked, uncertain, "What are you doing?"

The blue-haired man, already showered but still wearing the grey sweater, was sitting in the middle of the bed farther from the door, newspaper pages spread out all around him as he bent over one of them. He looked up at Ssigh's arrival, a troubled look on his face. "I'm checking the news in case there is something I miss," he explained, frustration clear in his voice. "Am I reading right about this Cygnusia colony?"

"Yes, it's been on the news for days," Ssigh answered carefully and closed the door to give them some privacy. "You didn't know about it?"

"No," Athrun closed his eyes and leant back to the wall behind him, raw pain flickering across his face. Ssigh restrained himself from saying anything as the news he had just heard yesterday from his radio echoed in his head. 417 victims in total had been found, more than half of them dying due to the running out of oxygen. Truly appalling, the announcer had said in a deeply emotional tone and Ssigh couldn't agree more.

"I'm sorry, what were you saying?" Athrun suddenly asked, sounding as tired and withdrawn as he looked.

"Oh, right." Ssigh was quickly reminded to his idea earlier. "About what you said in the car, I think we can get Millie to help us."

"Millie? Miriallia Haww?"

"Yes," he nodded, putting their food on the table near a basin of melting ice, and took off his jacket. He pulled the chair and sat with its back facing his chest. "I'm still in touch with her. She's a freelance journalist, so she has a lot of connections. You said you had to go back to ORB?"

"It's easier to go back to ORB than PLANT," Athrun said, another frown already appearing on his face. "But I don't want to involve her. You see what happened to the shuttle. If she helps me, I'll be putting her life at risk."

"You already involved me," Ssigh pointed out.

The chairman bowed his head, looking miserable as drops of water from his hair fell to his clenched hands. "Yes, and I'm sor–"

"That's not what I mean," he hastily said, seeing the guilt, hearing the distress and immediately sharing them. "Look, I'll just tell Millie. She gets to decide if she wants to help you or not."

"But–"

"Please," Ssigh interrupted. "You are Kira's friend and you said yourself not half-an-hour ago that we're also friends. I just want to help."

For a long moment, Athrun looked like he was about to bring up another reason why he should be avoided at all cost. Ssigh waited, ready to counter whatever argument coming his way, but was immensely relieved when the other man backed down.

"You already do," Athrun said softly, his smile sincere but thin, "and I really thank you for that."

Suddenly Ssigh was ambushed by an intense surge of frustration and before he could identify where it came from, he had already launched a barrage of words. "Okay, you know what? I met this man at the diner and he told me about you saving his son in an incident in South America. You have to see this look in his face when he talked about how you saved his son and how he wished you weren't dead. He said you're a great leader and that's why you have to go back to PLANT, Athrun. My opinion may not mean much but I think that you still have some unfinished jobs. Not that I mean anything by that but maybe, you know, maybe there are things in this world only a handful of people can do and you are one of them."

Athrun remained silent throughout his rant, on his face a stunned look that told Ssigh he had done the right thing, and so he went on, "Look, I'm not trying to lecture you or anything. In fact, maybe I'm the last person who has the right to talk to you like this because I really don't know what you're facing everyday as the chairman. What I know is that you matter, you're important to a lot of people and please don't forget that. You have done something right and I think that's why the shuttle accident happened."

He had overstepped the line somewhere, Ssigh realized with a sinking feeling, ready to accept whatever expression of wrath Athrun would see fit to give him. It was why he was caught utterly unprepared when a smile appeared on the other man's face.

"I did something right and someone wanted to blow me up?" Athrun asked, true amusement slipping into his voice.

"You know what I mean," he said with a huff.

Athrun's smile was, for once, peaceful. "Yes, I think I do. Thank you, Ssigh."

Feeling rather embarrassed and uncomfortable, Ssigh dismissed it with a wave of his hand. It wasn't as if he really knew what he was doing. He just wanted to help and cheering up the other man seemed to fall into that category at the moment.

"I'll call her then," he said, rising from the chair. "I think there's a payphone in this hotel. You can eat first if you want to."

The other shook his head. "No, I'll wait for you. Before that, Ssigh, do you have scissors?"

"Yes," he reached for his rucksack and started to rummage around. "What for?"

"I want to cut my hair."

Ssigh immediately stopped his search and stared at the blue-haired man incredulously. "You aren't serious, are you?"

"My face is too knowledgeable," Athrun said with a shrug as he pulled at the dark blue locks. "But people are used to see me with my hair this long, so if I cut it, maybe I won't be so easily recognized."

Looking down at his bag, Ssigh hid a little smile. "I doubt that."

Athrun suddenly looked serious. "What do you mean? I know it probably won't make a lot of difference but, you know, better than nothing."

"I think you have to hide your face entirely if you want to avoid recognition," he told the other man. "You're good-looking, Athrun. Eyes just gravitate to your direction and it's enough to attract attention."

_Did I just say that?_

The realization was followed with a deep, mortified flush as Ssigh violently berated himself for not thinking first before sputtering nonsense. He quickly stammered an apology at the astonished look on Athrun's face, "I'm sorry, it's– I'm only joking, you see– of course I won't–"

And this was only his first day.

  
_**End Chapter 16  
** _


	17. Meyrin - Scars

  
Home at last.

Meyrin sighed as the elevator started its ascend. It was her first day of coming back to work. She had expected it to be hard, working with the temporary chairman and still torn by the thought that everything was wrong. It turned out to be much worse.

She still kept her post, dividing tasks and responsibilities with another secretary the new chairman had brought in to help. Meyrin hardly minded since she didn't think that she was able to function to the best of her ability yet. As a matter of fact, it came as a relief to her because she didn't have to repeatedly come to his office to make perfunctory reminders. She didn't have to look at the man sitting behind the desk, expecting to see a familiar smile, only to be shoved back to reality when she realized that it was not him.

Algrend Hayes was sitting there. Athrun didn't return.

It was almost an obsession, the thought plaguing her days and nights. Her sister had tried to talk to her about it, but no matter how gently, Meyrin would always snap at her in the end. It was a poor repayment, she knew, to everything Luna had done for her. She had insisted to stay with her, paying no mind to the fact that she had to wake up one hour earlier in the morning in order to get to work on time. She would always rush to her bedroom every time Meyrin was wrecked by a nightmare, no matter at what hour. To top it all, she never complained.

Meyrin felt guilty. Luna had been so nice, but the thought of Athrun attacked her in wave after wave of cold anger and despair. Her anxiety, her hopes, empty though they might be now, were still eating her. They hurt a lot, so much that Meyrin chose to pretend that nothing had happened.

It didn't solve anything, but at least she could have a little comfort in the arms of ignorance, even if it was fleeting and false. That was why she couldn't appreciate Luna's attempts to make her feel better. For her sister, coming into terms with the problem was a necessary first step and it was exactly what Meyrin was not ready to do yet.

There had been flowers, twice sent to her, and Luna had spent the rest of both evenings mercilessly teasing her. No card or name had accompanied any of the beautiful bouquets, so Meyrin had taken Youlan's name off the list. She would very much like to think that it was Athrun who had sent them, but she realized that it was a foolish idea. For all she knew, it might be another make-her-feel-better attempt Luna had tried to pull.

It still didn't give her a reason to be difficult though, she realized guiltily. Her sister was genuinely worried because she loved her so much. Maybe she should cook for Luna tonight, to make up a little for her rudeness.

The elevator arrived on the twelfth floor with its usual 'ding' and Meyrin stepped out. Her room was located in the end of the left wing, a moderately large, two-bedroom space with a marvelous view toward the nicer part of the city. Being the secretary of the most powerful man in the country did have its perks. Meyrin sighed when a familiar ache fastened its frozen fingers around her heart. She really was getting used to it and the thought brought a shiver down her spine. She couldn't imagine a more awful thing to get used to.

Meyrin felt her breath caught in her throat when she noticed two officers in military uniform standing in front of her door. Their face betrayed nothing when they saw her, but one of them quickly approached her, his manner brisk and practiced.

"Miss Hawke?"

"Yes," her voice was frail, shaky when she answered. "Is... is there something wrong?"

"Please come inside, Ma'am," he stepped aside and opened the door for her. Meyrin couldn't respond, her heart thundering in her chest. Something had happened and she could feel that it was something bad. What if Luna...?

Her feet were wobbly when she finally found the power to move them and stepped into her apartment. The lamps had been lit inside and there were voices coming from the inner room. They usually meant that her sister had a chance to return early but this time, she was not so sure.

Already prepared with heavy anticipation, she was surprised to find Luna sitting on the couch facing the entrance, looking perfectly fine if a little worried. Her face brightened when she saw her standing rooted to the floor. "Ah, here she is!" she exclaimed. "Meyrin, Lacus-sama has been waiting for you."

Not quite over her initial surprise, she could only repeat, "Lacus-sama?"

True to his sister's words, a very beautiful young woman with long, flowing pink hair rose from the couch. Meyrin stared, dumbfounded, as the other approached her with a disarming smile. "Good evening, Meyrin-san. I hope the officers outside did not upset you."

"Oh, no, but..." she trailed off, still overwhelmed by the fact that Lacus Clyne was _here_ , at her house. Even after working for almost two years as the chairman's secretary, she had never been particularly close with the beautiful mediator. Lacus had this stately air that often made Meyrin feel small in her presence. The ethereal beauty didn't help to improve her confidence either – if anything, it only served to make her feel even more inferior, being in the same room with this perfect specimen of female grandeur.

"I was asked to deliver a message to you," the intermediary said again, her voice every bit as lovely as her face.

"A message? But, Lacus-sama–"

"Lacus is fine if I may call you Meyrin," she smiled and guided her to the couch. "But before I tell you what it is, I need to stress the importance that nothing I disclose here may leave the room. This is classified information, but someone feels that you have the right to know about this. I happen to agree."

Meyrin could only nod. Luna, at the other hand, rose from her seat at this warning and waved her hand vaguely toward the kitchen.

"I'll go for a moment then. Would you like to stay for dinner, Lacus-sama?"

"Please don't leave," the pink-haired woman quickly said. "You're welcome to stay and I think your sister will appreciate it. All I ask is for you not to repeat to anyone else what I'm about to say."

Meyrin released the breath she had been unconsciously holding as her sister sat down again, close enough for their knees to be touching. It almost surprised her how vulnerable she had felt at the thought of being left alone. She had been so used to Luna's constant presence, to the feeling that she would always have someone to count upon. Luna seemed to notice this and gave her a small encouraging smile.

"This is about Chairman Zala," their guest said softly and Meyrin realized that she couldn't breathe again.

_Chairman Zala?_

"There have been some developments during the past few days," Lacus continued, blue eyes never leaving her. "Now we have a reason to believe that he is indeed still alive."

Meyrin forgot about her difficulty to breathe altogether once the news had sunk in. She stared at the mediator, only half-listening to her explanation about Commander Jule's recent discovery, the other half of her mind covered by an alien emotion which tasted too much like dread. Somewhere in the darkest depth of her mind, a voice was screaming 'impossible!', making her hands tremble.

"We may not know for sure, but the video recording is definitely something" Lacus was still speaking, her gentle voice falling upon her ears like the beguiling singing of sirens, beautiful but deadly. "The most important of all, two days ago Kira received a call from an old friend who told him that she had made a contact with Athrun. She is a friend we trust deeply, so I doubt that she is only playing a trick on us. For precaution, I cannot tell you more but we may expect to hear from him directly in a few days."

Those blue eyes were still staring at her, their depths calm and comforting. Meyrin felt like they were the only thing she was holding onto as she trudged forward slowly on this uncertain path between hope and despair.

"So he is alive," she whispered weakly, afraid that at any moment she would feel her sister shaking her up and everything would fade like so many dreams she had experienced since the accident. As if sensing her uncertainty, the mediator smiled at her.

"Yes, I think we can be certain of that."

The silence which followed was heavy, full with emotions waiting to burst. Meyrin was faintly aware of her sister's arm circling her shoulders, but she only looked down at her own hands, wishing that she could assure herself that this wasn't a dream. She had repeated the experience too many times and by each moment, the pain only got worse. She would wake up with tears streaming down her face and Luna would make such a fuss over her and gain more tired, anxious lines on her face.

But what if this time it was real?

She heaved a deep breath, preparing for the worst as she felt herself once more giving in to that bittersweet tang of hope. It was a thoroughly familiar feeling by now. She might be able to write a thesis on that.

"Hey," Luna's confident voice pierced through the dense mist in her mind and she found herself looking up at her smiling face. "You aren't dreaming, Meyrin. Trust me."

"You said that too that time," she murmured but didn't explain when her sister gave her a puzzled look. Instead, she turned her attention to Lacus's waiting gaze.

"It's General Yamato, isn't it?" she inquired quietly. "The one who asked you to tell me."

There was an enigmatic look on the mediator's face as she gave her a slight nod. "He was one of two. The other one asked me not to tell you his identity. Yet, at least," she added in amusement.

Meyrin could only respond with a faint 'oh'. She had suspected Kira at once – the ORB General had always been so nice to her, maybe because he knew how she felt about his lover – but never thought that there was another who would go to such length worrying about her. She wanted to know – still couldn't silence the small voice that whispered to her that it could be Athrun.

_He is alive. God, he IS alive..._

"Maybe it's your secret admirer," her sister suggested all of a sudden. "We know for sure that he is worried about you."

"Onee-san!" Meyrin felt her face heating up, but from what she couldn't tell. One part of her just wanted to cry and weep out those pent-up emotions within her while the rest had their interest piqued by this new possibility.

"Secret admirer?" Lacus asked with a puzzled tone.

"Someone sent her two beautiful bouquets anonymously, Lacus-sama," Luna generously explained. "One cannot help but to wonder, right? I mean, why anonymously?"

"It has nothing to do with this," Meyrin argued in what she felt her sternest voice, wishing that her face would cooperate and stop blushing. Luna raised her eyebrows at this.

"How do you know that?"

"I just do," she insisted stubbornly.

"I wouldn't be so sure if it was me," their guest suddenly contributed, a knowing smile gracing her face. "It may be the same person."

"See? Even Lacus-sama agrees with me," Luna declared triumphantly.

"I..." Meyrin took a deep breath, trying to calm her emotions. She didn't want this. Really, the thought was flattering, but she did not want this, not when it wasn't _him_. "It doesn't matter," she murmured weakly. "I mean, I am really grateful for his consideration but..."

She didn't expect the look of utter sadness that flitted across Lacus's face, or the equally sad voice that drowned every silence in the room afterward. "You know, Meyrin, there are times that..." the mediator faltered, her words disappearing like a window shutting out the rain, tiny pitter-patter echoing still in the background. In her clear blue eyes was a shadow that Meyrin had often seen in the mirror, darkening her own eyes. Her lips tightening into a thin line, Lacus attempted a smile and said again softly, "Sometimes, even if it's hard, one has to let go."

Meyrin was taken aback. The insinuation was obvious, but it was that poignant smile which shot a dart through her heart. It wasn't the painful sympathy that always shaded Luna's face every time she mentioned Athrun's name. Luna had never understood, but here, this, that smile...

And then she remembered. _Of course._ Kira Yamato.

Here was probably the only person who understood fully what it meant for her to love Athrun Zala. How her own sobs sometimes played as a lullaby to send her to sleep. How she continued to live believing that he needed her. How she died a little every time he smiled at her. She was proud to love him, immensely so, but it didn't make bearing such love any less painful.

"Yes," she whispered. "I know."

  
_**End Chapter 17  
** _


	18. Millie - Dark Voices

  
They were late.

Miriallia tapped a finger anxiously on the table as she looked around for probably the thousandth time since her arrival. The outdoor cafe was a busy scenery at eleven in the morning but so far there was no sign of those she was waiting for. Their meeting should be around ten and she knew very well that her old friend Sai detested unpunctuality to the point of revulsion.

To be frank, she could think of several reasons to this unusual tardiness – troubles that might come up during the journey, especially if the identity of his current companion was put into consideration. As a matter of fact, to not expect trouble when it concerned the Chairman of PLANT was a notion so laughable that it didn't even sound funny anymore. There would – must – be troubles. Whether they would escalate into bigger ones afterward or remain at the perimeter as small, quite harmless threats was hardly important at this stage. It was the anticipation that counted.

The problem was, they didn't have that kind of anticipation in this circumstance. Millie glanced at her camera bag. They only had one plan, no more and no less. Hopefully, it was enough and nothing went wrong.

She still found the whole situation hard to believe. A week ago, she had received a call from Sai and heard the most bizarre story in her life. The problem was, he wasn't making things up and she knew it. He had left a long, expectant silence at the end of his explanation and she had needed no less than one full minute to finish her pondering.

Thinking about Athrun Zala still struck a painful nerve somewhere in her. They had talked, yes, and sorted things out a bit, but it definitely took more than common sense and clear understanding to really, really forgive someone. Still, in the end she had agreed to help. It might be common sense and understanding taking over again, but Millie really felt that it was the right thing for her to do at this moment.

Did she love Tolle any less now than she had before he had been killed? No.

Did she like Athrun Zala better now than she had after just discovering who had killed her boyfriend? Yes.

There was a big difference between those two questions and Millie wouldn't let the first cloud her judgment and the second be disregarded. If not for the sake of her conscience, at least she was doing it for Kira. She would never forget his reaction when she had called and told him about the plan. The stunned silence, the out-and-out refusal to believe any of her words, the barely-concealed desperation, and then the small voice that had been outlined by fear, followed narrowly by something else much, much more painful.

If Millie didn't know better, she would say that Kira sounded like a crying lover. But she didn't want to overanalyze things and not that it was important anyway in this situation. Something else, something bigger was going on. She couldn't help but to feel it in the atmosphere, in the information she had recently come in contact with in her line of work. The murders, the shuttle incident, the satellite, the small voices that whispered dark news to her; everything seemed to point to one conclusion.

She had been there during the last two wars, seen with her own eyes and felt in her own heart the bitterness, the cruelties of ambitions, hate and revenge. She had seen enough to realize that the one she hated with all of her being was not a person, not the one who had killed Tolle, but the war itself. She had suffered enough to believe that no one should feel like she had – like _they_ had – when a loved one had been lost. Athrun Zala was important, to PLANT, to the world, to peace, but for Millie, above all he was important to Kira and the people who loved him.

Was it easy for her to turn a blind eye at the fact that he had killed her boyfriend? No. Even after all these years, it was not easy. She just knew her order of priorities and for now, it was enough.

That brought her back to the present problem. Where were they?

Millie took out her cell phone and pushed the redial button again. When a flat voice informed her that the number was out of reach at the moment, her uneasiness rapidly doubled. Relax, she told herself. Sai might have just forgotten to recharge the battery again. It was often the case during situations like this – everything looked worse than it actually was.

"Millie!"

At last! Millie turned toward the direction of the voice and immediately spotted a blue car amidst the slow morning traffic. Sai was waving at her from behind the steering wheel and from that distance, she could vaguely see a figure sitting next to him. She left a few bills on the table and grabbed her camera bag before sprinting across the sidewalk.

"What took you so long?" she demanded once she had slipped into the backseat of the car. "The flight is in two hours!"

"I bought the wrong map," Sai made a helpless gesture and pointed toward the crumpled fold of map on the seat next to her. "You have no idea how hard it was to find this place without proper direction."

"You should have called me," Millie pointed out, and when her old friend opened his mouth, quickly added with a sigh, "Right, out of battery. You're just helpless, you know that? And don't say anything. Just follow the road. There's an intersection up front and you should turn right. I thought you've been here before?"

"I've been to the airport twice," he replied as the car left the long queue which was heading to the left, "but they were just for transits and I only had a little chance to look around. Are we going by the main road?"

"That's the easiest way," she said as her gaze furtively swept to the third passenger in the car. Wearing a pair of black-rimmed spectacles, the Chairman of PLANT was sitting rigidly in his seat, his eyes occasionally shifting toward her but quickly looking away when she looked at him. Millie tried to ignore a painful throb in her chest, an old wound and yet still aching like it had just been inflicted yesterday. Judging by his obvious discomfort however, it seemed that she was not the only one who felt that there was something enormously wrong in their relationship.

"Hello, Athrun," she said calmly, glad to hear her voice cordial enough if not entirely friendly. "It's good to see you're okay."

He raised a pair of self-conscious green eyes, meeting her gaze uncertainly, and replied with a faint smile, "Thank you, Miriallia."

"Millie is okay," she said with a – hopefully – casual tone and lowered her gaze to her bag, relieved to find means to escape from those anxious eyes. She pulled out a few papers she had carefully arranged only last night and handed them to him. "Anyway, I got these for you. A passport, necessary papers and a ticket to ORB, all under the name Alex Dino. The photo is old and a bit blurry, but it should suit our purpose nicely," she added with a meaningful glance toward his now short hair. "That's pretty good. With the glasses, I think you can pass safely unrecognized."

Sai tore his gaze away from the traffic in front of them and peered at the documents curiously. "How on earth did you get all those?"

Millie shot him a little grin. "As usual, a little connection here and there," she answered lightly. "And of course, with a tremendous help from ORB. Cagalli-san almost sent a private jet here when I told her about this plan, but then she understood that secrecy was important in this case."

An unreadable expression stole over Athrun's face. Millie, catching a glimpse of it from the rearview mirror before the chairman could look down and hide his face, was certain that it wasn't meant for anyone to see. She felt like she had spied on something personal, privately vulnerable, and was grateful that Athrun didn't seem to notice.

"How is everyone at ORB?" he spoke again at length.

"Cagalli-san sounded fine," she answered carefully, aware that the topic was sensitive if it could bring that look to his face. "I mean, as fine as someone can be under that condition. But you must hear Kira when I said that Sai had found you. I'm almost certain that he cried."

"Oh."

Again, the unreadable expression made a fleeting appearance although this time Athrun didn't bother to conceal it – or couldn't, she was not sure which. She knew that Sai noticed it too and felt the awkwardness which had quickly resurfaced as the result. They exchanged a brief glance through the mirror, both sensing the oppressive need to change the subject, but in the end, it was Sai who volunteered to undertake the task.

"Have you been here long, Millie?" he asked, looking pointedly at her.

She gave him a brief smile before answering, "Not really. I was in Lyon when you contacted me, but my friend who can forge those papers lives here, so I thought why not. It would make no difference to you anyway and there's an airport here." She paused for a moment and then asked in turn, "What about you? Was the journey here difficult?"

"Unexciting if that's what you mean," Sai replied, his voice suddenly sounding a little strangled. Millie raised her eyebrows, finding her friend's obstinacy to keep his gaze glued on the silver sedan in front of them suspicious. But he offered no further explanation, so she dropped the subject despite her firm conviction that he had deliberately left some details out.

"Anyway," she cleared her throat, drawing the others's attention back to her, "I think I should go now. Quite a few people know my face around here and if you two really appreciate what journalists are like, you won't want to be seen in my company. They will think that you're possible informants or something and believe me, you don't want that to happen," she threw a meaningful look at Athrun.

"It can't be that bad," Sai commented in an offhand tone but quickly shut up when she shot him a cold look.

"Athrun," she turned her attention toward the chairman, "Kira told me that someone would be there to pick you up once you've arrived. He said that it would be Mwu-san since you knew him fairly well and couldn't possibly mistake him. He also forbade you to go with anyone else no matter how convincing their credentials are, in case there is another attempt to your life. Except him, of course. You know, to avoid unnecessary risks."

"I understand," Athrun answered stiffly but politely. Millie wondered whether the aloofness was generated from fear for his life or something else entirely. It seemed almost unnatural, especially coming from someone who looked so smooth and confident in countless occasions she had seen him on screen.

"Are you sure you can manage by yourself from here?" she addressed the question back to Sai who was watching the traffic around them with some kind of rapt concentration.

He threw a sidelong look at her and shrugged. "I think so."

Millie felt that this was very inadequate. "That's not good enough," she declared, her brow creasing into a frown.

"I know the way to the airport from here – well, kind of – so it should be okay," Sai reassured her. "Unless the whole city has been redesigned, we can get there just fine. And don't worry, I'll make sure that 'Alex' gets into the plane safely even if I have to bribe the whole airport staff."

"The flight is at 13.20, OR-789," she reminded him.

Sai threw a glance at his LED clock at the dashboard and winced. "Well, I admit that we have to speed up a bit if we want to arrive on time, but it's still okay."

"Do that, but be careful. Don't create more trouble for yourself by getting the Chairman of PLANT injured," Millie said and winked at Athrun who returned it with a surprised smile. "Or you can take the highway if you want to be quick. Just about half-a-mile from here. With all those road signs, you can't possibly miss the way to the airport."

"Yes, Ma'am," said Sai obediently.

"Okay then, you can let me off in front of that bookstore," she pointed at an old building with a tall front window decorated with books of various colours and thicknesses. It didn't seem to have any patron at the moment and there were only a few pedestrians on the sidewalk, none of them sparing a glance at their car.

Sai halted the vehicle inconspicuously and turned his head, facing her. "Thanks a lot, Millie," he said, his tone of voice nothing short of serious, and paused for a moment before adding awkwardly, "You be careful too. Don't do anything dangerous."

She nodded with a smile before glancing at Athrun. Here, she thought, lies still the problem, deep-rooted, possibly irremovable. Even if she already could smile at him, it remained awkward, strained, and to be honest, untruthful. She had given up blaming anyone in this case and never ceased to hope that time would heal all wounds, but his politeness, something one could mistake as detachment, even arrogance, was hardly helpful.

"Thank you very much, Miriallia-san."

Yep. Exactly like that. Millie couldn't help but to wonder whether things between them would be better if he acted more like a long-time friend and less like a guilty prisoner in front of her.

And obviously he didn't pay any heed to her request to address her less like a stranger.

"I've helped you big time in this," she said with a frown. "Don't you think that earns me a right to demand by what name you should call me?"

He looked flabbergasted and the small murmur that fell from his mouth next was clearly uncertain. "Millie…san?"

"Drop the honorific. What do you think I am? Your aunt?"

At least that cleared the awkwardness a bit. She could see both edges of his lips quirking slightly upward, forming a – _finally_ – less hesitant smile. "Millie."

 _Should've_ _done that from the beginning_. A good hook straight to the face, that was what he needed. Millie nodded her approval and decided to give him a friendly pat on the shoulder. "Good luck, Athrun. Give my love to Kira and Cagalli-san and tell them that they owe me this time."

"Certainly," he replied with another smile, which she realized was mirrored brightly in Sai's face.

Millie descended from the car and stood at the sidewalk for a few moments, full of apprehension as she watched her friends drive away. Something was bothering her. It might be her journalist instinct going off again and after more than four years prowling in this grey side of life, she had learnt not to ignore it. For one, it was rarely proven wrong. She had gotten some of her best materials purely from the act of following her instinct.

But what could she do now? Sai had given her his word and she knew that he would do anything to keep it. The plane would then take Athrun back to ORB and once there, he would be in the best of hands because if the Protector of Peace couldn't protect him, then no one could. She had done her part. Whatever could happen during the flight was certainly not within her power to interfere, let alone change.

Suddenly a different kind of fear seized her. Dark sinister voices she had heard sometimes, often accidentally, echoed in her head like a distant nightmare striking during daylight. Long had she known that not everyone appreciated this hard-earned peace between Natural and Coordinator, and most of them had the strongest dislike toward those who fought to maintain it. It was a solid unchangeable fact that they were different. Only a very select few Naturals could stand on par with even the most ordinary Coordinators, and that was through extreme hard work and endless patience. Discontent was only the first on a very long list, and once it had ripened into jealousy, and then hatred…

Millie shuddered despite the cheerful sunlight warming her face. She couldn't bear to think of another war, but unfortunately humans were fast to forget certain things sometimes. The murder of three PLANT Council members was one of the most incontestable proofs. Coupled with the shuttle incident and the appalling slaughter in Cygnusia, it almost seemed like some of them had forgotten the horrors of war. She felt like she was back on Archangel, waking up every morning with constant dread that something awful might happen today.

"Miriallia Haww!"

Millie almost jumped on her feet at this sudden, loud interruption. She looked around quickly and noticed a tanned grinning face just across the road. Cad Haydock, a reporter she had worked with in a number of occasions, ran across the busy traffic without as much as a glance around, ignoring many annoyed honking from the passing vehicles and shouting, "Ha! I know it's you!"

"Hey, Cad," she greeted him once he was within reasonable distance to catch her voice. "What are you doing here? Last time I heard you were lurking somewhere in Africa."

"That's an ancient story," he waved a hand dismissively. "What about you? Not covering the governor campaign, I hope? As dreary as thousands-year-old bones if you ask me."

"I'm meeting a friend," she answered shortly but tried to sound casual. No matter how good of a man Cad Haydock was, he was still a reporter and Millie knew only too well what her fellow reporters were like.

"Meeting a friend, huh?" A knowing grin spread across his face. "Is that what you call it nowadays?"

She frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Don't worry, I won't try tackling your precious informant without your express permission," Haydock made a solemn gesture but his eyes were twinkling. "About the burning, right? I already know about it."

"Burning?"

"No?" His face only brightened at this display of confusion and he leant in, speaking in a low, conspiratorial voice, "Well, since you helped me once last year, let me give you a little scoop. There's this small town in Transylvania burned crisp to the ground last week, five days ago according to one of my informants. Near Bellshill or something."

For some reason, her heart started beating faster at this newly broken information. "Last week? Why isn't it on the news?"

His face suddenly gained a certain manic look she had seen only too often on many of her coworkers's face and his voice dropped into an ecstatic whisper. "That's the best part," he said, slinging a casual arm around her shoulders. "I'm not entirely sure why – well, of course it's rather out-of-the-way and probably too unimportant to make it to any headline – but if you ask me, something's fishy is going on. You know, hush-hush."

"The Eurasian Government?"

"Maybe," he shrugged, still sporting that wide euphoric grin. "Well, are you coming? I've been there before – hunting for vampire's lore, can you believe it?– so if you wanna go, there's no better traveling companion than me."

Millie pondered on the offer for a while. Her interest was tickled, that was for sure, and she could sense that it was something big. What kind of dim-witted journalist would ignore something like this, especially if it had all the possibilities in the world to be interesting and most likely dangerous? Like her, Cad Haydock was very seldom wrong.

And it wasn't the only reason. Sai had mentioned to her during his first call that he had been calling from an inn in a small town in Transylvania. It might have nothing to do with the burning, but for all she knew, it was not impossible. If they were really connected somehow, Millie felt that she must know the whos, whys and hows before something worse could occur.

"Well, I really want to go with you," she finally said with a sigh, "but there are things I need to take care of first. Two or three days maybe. You can go on ahead, Cad."

Haydock seemed slightly disappointed but the look disappeared as quickly as it had come. "Hurry up or you'll miss the hot stuff," he told her. "Look for me once you're there, 'kay?"

"Sure. Just be careful if you're going to stick your nose in shady places."

"Certainly, darling," he winked at her and sauntered down the sidewalk with a small wave before disappearing around a corner, leaving her still standing thoughtfully in front of the bookstore. Making up her mind, Millie took a deep breath and turned around, walking toward a nearby bus stop to catch a ride back to her hotel.

The news disturbed her. Immensely. She spent the better part of the ride brooding in her corner seat about various possibilities, linking one fact with another and then another in her head, occasionally consulting a little notebook she always took with her everywhere. She didn't like this, but she could hardly approach Kira or Cagalli without any definite proof. They were already too busy as it was.

But the uneasiness didn't disappear. Millie found out why later that evening in her hotel room when she had just finished a long, meditative bath and turned on the television for a bit of evening news.

"...flight number OR-789 which has gone missing at approximately 2 p.m. this afternoon. The Eurasian Government has dispatched a search-and-rescue team one hour after the disappearance of the plane's signal. So far, there has been no information on the whereabouts…"

She stared at the screen and her hand flew to her mouth, muffling her horrified scream to a single hitched gasp.

  
_**End Chapter 18  
** _


	19. Kira - Zero-Sum

  
Kira didn't know how long he had stayed here, staring at his bedroom ceiling without seeing anything. Everything around him was quiet and the sky had grown dark, faint light coming from outside casting a mellow glow at the window. He didn't know what to do anymore. He just feel… tired.

There were tears in his eyes but they wouldn't fall. In his hand was the yellow-green Haro Lacus had given him, the one he had carried around in his pocket for days. Now it just lay there, cradled by fingers that didn't know how to move anymore. His mind was blank and everything felt dead to him.

Dead.

The last thing he remembered was him shouting at Mwu-san to confirm the news of the plane accident, because _it was impossible_. Athrun should have come back to him, should have smiled at him again, should have held and kissed him and made whispered promises to him that he wouldn't let him feel like this anymore. And then he ran, away from the broken sympathy in the older man's voice and the hollow look on his sister's face, and since then, there had been only memories of his lover's smiles and the feel of his heart breaking.

Weeks ago, he had managed to force himself into believing that Athrun was still alive. This time, he knew that he had lost.

How was this possible?

Kira shut his eyes and felt the tears, and the burning pain in his chest. He knew that he shouldn't wish for death, that he should be stronger, but right now he hardly cared anymore. Something, anything to make this pain stop...

"Kira."

His breath hitched at the sound of Cagalli's voice, small, almost afraid. He lay still and only opened his eyes when her footsteps echoed in the room. She stopped at the bedside with a final hesitant step, looking worse for wear, but remained silent for a long time, probably searching for words he knew she couldn't find. Kira only gazed up blankly at her, knowing what she came for with the steaming mugs in her hands.

"You haven't eaten anything since yesterday," she finally said, but then bit her lips in an evident loss for words. Kira didn't know what kind of picture he was painting, but from the look on her face, it obviously wasn't good.

She didn't look much better either. Her exhaustion was clear, etched on her face and in the way her shoulders sagged against wrinkled uniform, but above all, it was the grief in her eyes that really caught him. A familiar stab of pain shot through him. They had had one week of nothing else but joy and bliss – because even the cold-blooded slaughter of 417 lives was unable to put a damp on them at the revelation that Athrun was alive. They had been certain that everything would be okay once he had returned.

And suddenly, this.

It might be pity, or sympathy that eventually made him move. He felt nothing for himself, but his sister's pitiful state made him wonder, even though just for a flash of a second, if he should do something for her.

And so he did. Cagalli looked relieved when he sat up and crossed his legs slowly. She tried to smile, but it was a poor attempt and she quickly covered it by handing him one of the mugs.

"Come on, drink it," she urged him softly as she sat down next to him.

Kira dutifully took the mug but only stared at it, not touching its content. Chocolate milk, a part of his mind supplied as a sweet smell wafted to his nose. The warmth felt strange between his fingers, piercing deep into numb muscles, but not exactly unwelcome. It… somehow it made him feel again.

Cagalli remained silent, only sitting at the edge of the bed and sipping her own drink without a word, as if waiting for him to open a conversation. Which was ridiculous. Kira preferred silence to any painfully awkward chat to cheer him up, so he let it linger. He really didn't want to talk about anything. He didn't want her here. He didn't want anything else but…

But it went on and on. Long soundless minutes, possibly hours, passed without as much as a hum, only spoiled occasionally by her small swallowing. Silence was very unbecoming on Cagalli, Kira realized and finally looked at her, tired at this game.

"Why are you here?"

She was startled by his sudden question and stuttered, "I… I just… no, I mean…"

Her voice wavered and completely disappeared a second later. Whatever answer she had properly rehearsed before seemed to have deserted her. Kira only stared, vaguely thinking why his sister was so strange. This was unlike her at all. Cagalli would abruptly ask how he was feeling and then pulled him into her arms and patted him on the back. Which would be useless. There were problems in this world that couldn't be resolved by a hug and a pat and he wanted to show her that.

"I want to be here, Kira," she whispered, her voice steady enough although thickly painted by worry. "At your side. I've never been there for you much. I've never listened, never tried to get to you, and I…"

The rest of her words were swallowed by a sharp intake of breath. She was furiously biting her lips and the sight only trickled more pain into the throbbing bundle inside his chest. Kira closed his eyes. He wanted it to stop.

"You have your duties," he said automatically, unable to think anymore. It didn't matter anyway. Whether Cagalli was here or not, Athrun would still be dead.

"Kira…"

"He's dead, right?" he murmured, half-speaking to himself. "I should have been able to accept that by now."

"Kira," her voice was a little firmer this time but he didn't react. Cagalli sighed and took his mug away from his hand so she could sit closer. Kira almost cringed when a gentle hand touched his shoulder.

"It's okay, you know?" she said quietly. "To cry if you want to."

He looked at her again and snorted. "What for?"

A flash of pain flitted across her face, but Cagalli chose to ignore this question. "You cannot show weakness when you're in that uniform," she said, a bitter smile on her lips when she quoted the words he had said to her many years ago. "But Kira, you're only with me now and I'm your sister and… and I know how much you love him. So it's all right for you to be sad. And to cry."

"What for?" he repeated, now beyond caring that his voice had suddenly become cold.

"If it can make you feel a little better–"

"I don't want to feel better," he snapped at her, feeling irrationally angry. She didn't understand. What did she know? She never had anyone she loved this much dying in front of her eyes….

"I'm here," she whispered, on her face a sharp, heartrending smile that slapped him on the face. Because she knew how it felt. She had seen her father, the only family she had known in her entire life, commit suicide to defend what he believed. And she couldn't do anything.

Cagalli took his hand in hers, not breaking their gaze. "I know you feel like you want to die," she continued with a steadier voice. "It's horrible, and painful and… I feel it too, you know. He's also my friend. Maybe I'm not as close to him as you are, and maybe I don't mean as much as Athrun to you, but…"

That wasn't it, Kira wanted to scream. His twin didn't mean less to him than Athrun did. He didn't want to hear her speaking like that. He didn't want to…

"Don't torment yourself, Kira," her voice was soft and her smile was painful. "You know that I'll always be here at your side, right?"

She slipped an arm around his shoulder and he broke down completely. Something exploded within him and like an old tree which had finally succumbed to the howling storm, he cried. He screamed a lot of things, disjointed words that echoed his pain and loss and denial. Kira didn't know that he could bear that much agony. His breathing was coming in rags and there were times when he couldn't breathe at all. He wanted to let it be. He wanted to die. But Cagalli held him, whispering sweet nothings in his ears as he cried and cried and cried.

"I cannot... no, I cannot lose him... please, Cagalli, I cannot lose him... I would rather die... I..."

There were faint sobs coming from her own mouth, but she said nothing, only holding him tightly in her trembling arms. Her hand moved rhythmically across his back, soothing him as he continued to cry, his tears dampening her uniform, his fingers clutching her back because this was the only anchor he could latch on to, the only thing solid in his world right now.

And she stayed there. She didn't disappear.

It felt like centuries before his crying subsided. He kept holding on to Cagalli. His eyes hurt, his head hurt, and his chest hurt. Nothing had changed, he realized, but his sister was there, real, breathing alongside him. Her fingers were still caressing his back, loving, reassuring.

_Cagalli… Cagalli…_

He remembered the things he had said, the things he had made her say, and his chest constricted painfully. How could he? She loved him. She didn't mind to degrade herself for his sakes. She wanted to understand. She wanted to help.

And Kira wanted to cry again.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, so faintly that it was almost inaudible.

"For what?"

"I don't know. For everything. I'm just sorry."

"Do you hear anyone blaming you?" she said gently, her voice making a pleasant hum in his ear. "Kira, you're the one who got hurt the most here. You were upset. I don't see anything you should be sorry about."

Kira bit his lips and stared blankly at the white fabric that hid his face. "I'm sorry for abandoning my duties. I should be helping you but–"

"Did you even listen to me?" she cut him, bits of impatience starting to leak into her voice. "If you didn't, just shut up. I don't want to hear another 'sorry' from you again."

Kira almost, _almost_ smiled. He buried his face even deeper and murmured, "I love you, Cagalli."

There was only a sniffling sound answering to his declaration and the arms around him were tightening. Kira thought about Athrun and felt tears prickling his eyes again. He still couldn't accept this. He would have to make sure again, because who knows, who knows…

A sharp ringing sound interrupted his wishful thinking. The phone on his bedside table, he thought but didn't move to get it. After the second ring, Cagalli reached for the receiver without letting him go and answered brusquely, "Yes, who is this?"

An indistinct female voice replied from the other side of the line. Kira closed his eyes and concentrated on the feel of his sister's breathing. Just for a moment, he didn't want to deal with anything else but the fact that he was here with her. He wanted to pretend that the outside world didn't exist.

Cagalli seemed to agree. "No, he isn't accepting any call right now."

More mutters rose from the other side, but she cut them short. "I don't care if it's important," she snapped to the line. "He is not accepting any call right now. Tell whoever it is to call back tomorrow." She paused for a second before suddenly asking, "Wait, did the caller give a name?"

There was a moment of silence, and then more muttering. Kira could feel the tension which ran through Cagalli's body at the answer she got, and opened his eyes slowly.

"All right, wait a moment."

He straightened up and met her nervous gaze. "Kira, it's Sai," she told him, holding the phone close to her chest. "Do you want to talk to him?"

A sudden fear ambushed him from out of nowhere. He stared at the receiver, knowing what would come from the line once he put it to his ear, and forced himself to nod. It was not Sai's fault. His intention was to help, and whatever had happened... Kira bit his lips and took the phone, murmuring a weak 'hello'. He was unsurprised to hear his hoarse and shaky voice and was even more unsurprised to find that he didn't care.

"Kira."

He froze.

Impossible.

Completely impossible. He must be hallucinating.

"Kira?"

The second time his name was called, he felt like he was suddenly falling. His mind turned into a tableau of chaos, buzzing and screaming and all sort of noises clashing in his head, and his whole body was trembling so badly that the phone almost slipped from his fingers. He hardly even felt Cagalli's concerned hand on his shoulder.

"Athrun," he breathed out shakily, wishing that the name did not feel so good on his tongue. If this was a trick, a cruel heartless joke…

A pause, and then the same gentle voice answered, "Yes."

"Why… how…?"

"I didn't board the plane. Got caught in the traffic. It had taken off when I arrived."

Everything in front of him dissolved into a mosaic of colours. Kira stifled a sob and whispered, "I'm dreaming."

There was a thin chuckle from the other side of the line and Athrun's voice was even softer when he spoke, "Would you like this to be a dream?"

"No, I…" Kira knew he was crying because his voice cracked everywhere. "Gods, no. Please."

"You're crying again."

"I will scream and wail if it brings you back to me," he said fiercely although it was torn by wrecked edges of sobs and aching laughter. "Where are you?"

"Not here, this is an insecure line," Athrun's voice held a warning tone in it and Kira clammed up immediately, silently cursing himself that he hadn't paid attention that one detail.

"Right, I'm sorry."

There was a longer pause and he pressed the receiver closer to his ear, hoping that he could hear – feel – his lover's breathing. Athrun was alive. All was not lost. He could still meet him, love him, touch, him, kiss him…

"I'm sorry."

Kira laughed quietly, wishing that he could stop the tears falling from his eyes. "You should. You're making everyone worried."

"Yes, I know, that's why I apologize," Athrun sounded guilty, but the poised note which had always underlined his voice was still there. Kira realized that it was what he had missed in these few past weeks, the conviction that he would always have someone he could trust and depend on. Cagalli would be there, Lacus would be there, but it wouldn't be the same because Athrun was this other part of him that he simply couldn't live without.

"I can't stay too long," Athrun spoke again, more hurriedly this time. "I'll call you again, Kira. And say hi to Cagalli from me."

"Yeah. Am I going to see you soon?" _Please say my name again._

He could almost picture Athrun gripping the phone tightly, the etchings of shadows beneath his closed eyes, and the expression on his face which all but shouted every word he desperately kept inside. "Very soon, Kira," he replied tightly. "I promise."

And the line went dead with a definite click. Kira was still for a long moment, listening to the silence around him and thinking how it felt different, no longer dead but calm. Like the quietness after a storm.

Athrun was alive.

Cagalli was already clasping his arm forcefully by the time he let the phone slide from his hand to the bed. "It's him?" she demanded with a strangled voice, shaking him impatiently. "Really him?"

"Yes."

"I don't believe it," she whispered and Kira read the same fear in her eyes which had overrun his heart not so long ago. "And you're sure? I mean, you're _absolutely_ sure?"

He felt the beginning of a smile spreading over his face. "After sleeping with him for a few years, and not to mention being his best friend for fifteen years, I think I know how to recognize his voice, Cagalli."

Her responding laughs sounded thin and shaky, but her smile was genuine. "I'm glad, Kira," she reached for his hand and squeezed it gently. "I'm so glad."

"Yes," he murmured and looked down as his sight started to blur again. After all the tears he had spilled in the last few minutes, how he could still have some stock left to waste once more was beyond him.

"You're turning back into a crybaby," his twin pointed out but looked like she was about to cry herself.

"Do I look like I care?" he chuckled. "He's alive, Cagalli. Athrun's alive."

Her smile was bright, brighter than he had ever seen in years and Kira realized that it was him who put it there. His chest tightened with overflowing happiness and he took her into his arms, muffling her surprised gasp in his shoulder.

"Thank you," he said softly, "thank you so much for everything, Cagalli. Thank you for staying here even when I yelled and pushed you away. You don't know how much it meant for me."

She made a choking sound in her throat and put her arms around him. "You can give me back ten years of my age that I've lost in these two days," she replied with a quivering voice. Kira laughed.

"You should ask Athrun that. He was the one who did all the surprises."

Cagalli sighed against him and murmured, "I will."

"But I'll make you some dinner. How's that?"

"… not enough."

"With desserts?"

There was no response.

"Cagalli?"

Again, she didn't respond. Kira withdrew a little and that was when he noticed that his sister had become limp against him. Her head lolled forward, forehead touching his shoulder and her blonde hair wild in front of his face. Starting to feel anxious, he turned her around in his arm and saw that her face was pale and even her lips were almost white. He felt the frail happiness he had just built collapsing around him again.

"Cagalli, what happened?" he whispered in panic, barely noticing that his twin was not the only one shaking. Her skin felt cold under his hand but she was sweating profusely and her breathing was coming in short, pained gasps.

Hazy golden eyes cracked open slightly at his urgent tone and tried to focus on him. Her lips moved weakly and Kira leant in closer, but his sister couldn't even form any word. It took her a few more attempts to finally scrape enough strength to speak.

"Feel…awful," her voice was so faint that he almost couldn't make out the words. "Too tired maybe…"

She drew in a shuddering breath, her eyes closing again, and went completely still.

Kira felt his heart cease from beating. He couldn't move, couldn't do anything, only staring at her hand lying lifeless on her lap. But when he caught the sight of blood trickling from the edge of her lips, he knew that _it_ had happened again.

They were not done.

  
_**End Chapter 19  
** _


	20. Shinn - Hell

  
Since a long time ago, there had always existed this thing called the strength of will in this world. Its main purpose was to lend someone enough conviction than an utter disaster could turn out fine in the end if he only had the courage to see it through the end.

Shinn felt that in the last few weeks, this particular strength had mutinied against him.

First, the explosion of the shuttle and his incapability to cope up with the subsequent chain of cause-and-effect. He had just scraped through the whole ordeal and nasty guilt when Cygnusia happened, stunning the world into shock and disgust. Despair returned faster than gale at the prelude of a storm, but suddenly, unexpectedly, a ray of sunlight pierced through the brewing tempest. Bliss set its feet on battle-worn ground and for a few days, Shinn had known how to hope again, learnt to believe again. He didn't remember how dangerous it was to revel in delight too much when uncertainties still loomed on the horizon.

It only took the slightest tug to tip the scale. Or a drop of poison.

When the news had reached him for the first time, he remembered staring at Fllaga's panic-strewn face like the older man had lost his last shred of sanity. After all, who in the world at this age would use poison to try killing someone? There were eons of more effective methods – and not to mention, much less dramatic, less movie-like – but when Kira called him to the hospital, doubt and fear began to spawn inside his heart.

The phrase 'sent tumbling into the deepest pit of hell from the seventh heaven' couldn't even begin to describe how he felt when he saw Cagalli, pale-faced and unconscious, lying on the hospital bed with tubes attached to her wrist. He barely heard a word when Kira told him about the additional duties he had to attend in his place because as her brother, he would have to stay at her side, at least until her condition had stabilized. It was a good thing that his coworker was also there because Shinn really had no idea what he was listening at.

It felt like he had lost the center of his balance. Unlike the cold horror which had swallowed him after he had heard of the plane which had carried Athrun, this was strange, almost hollow. Never a pain had been so intangible for him, or crossed with such unfamiliarity that made him feel scared beyond his wits. Like he had lost something important he didn't even know what.

He realized what it was thirty-six hours later, when he was staring at his desk clock and remembered that on this day, at this hour, every week, he would go to Representative Athha's office and deliver a report of his investigation.

It was her.

Shinn continued to stare at the clock, unaware that his breath had been caught in his throat for some time. Even the realization felt strange. For the life of him, he had never imagined that something like this could…

Suddenly he had an urge to run far, _far_ away, preferably to somewhere remote and uninhabited, and scream.

Shinn stood up and began to pace around his desk, his brain still shrieking denials. It was absurd! Unthinkable! In fact, it was the very peak of impossibility itself! How could he allow this to happen? He had hated her and everything she stood for for so long. Although that hate had, admittedly, given way to something friendlier in the past two or three years, although she had attained his grudging respect, although deep down inside he had known that she wasn't responsible for the death of those he loved…

He stopped pacing and stared at the clock again. Suddenly those denials sounded weak and completely unimportant, because what he faced right now was the fact that Cagalli might not survive the poisoning. And the possibility frightened him. No matter what excuses he came up with, it would always return to this fear – this enigmatic, maddening, chilling fear.

Shinn sank to the floor next to his desk, head buried between his hands as he felt tears behind his eyelids. He was frustrated, confused, _angry_. He didn't know what to do and it wasn't as if he _could_ do anything to help her. It was different, a part of his mind reflected through the frenzied haze in his mind. With Athrun, the pain was old. He had been used to it and even though each time felt worse than before, he had lived with it for so long that he could no longer separate one from the rest.

But by God, if he could help it, he didn't want to lose Cagalli. It was enough. He couldn't lose another person he loved.

Shinn straightened up and wiped away the tears angrily. He shouldn't cry. Everything might feel wrong but he hadn't lost her yet. Not yet. They were still fighting this battle.

But on the other hand, he also had no idea how she was at the moment. For a moment, he contemplated the idea of going to the hospital and forcing his way through the tight security which he knew had been prepared to deal with visitors. Or maybe not. Maybe he could search for Kira and just ask him.

Unfortunately, he didn't know where his superior currently was, and even if he did, he wasn't sure if it was appropriate to bother him at the moment. Despite his resolve to stay at his sister's side, the general had been forced to leave her because ORB needed him. The whole country seemed to have completely stopped in its track, too stunned by what had happened to their leader. Kira had no choice but to step forward and fill the gap Cagalli had left.

Shinn didn't know how he did it. With his sister hovering on the brink of death, Kira still could find enough strength to pull ORB back to its feet. To say that he was perfectly unaffected would be an outright lie, but still, the strength he had shown left Shinn wondering if it was even human to possess that much willpower.

Maybe it was because of Athrun.

He couldn't help a tiny, little smile, followed by a frown. The news had come as an utter shock to him, but it had slowly dissolved into a quiet 'oh'. Resigned acceptance. Then suspicion caught up, but the tired look on Kira's face advised him against asking. In the end, he decided that if it was what the general wanted to believe in the wake of his sister's poisoning, he could play the part.

A sound coming from the door made Shinn flinch. His reaction wasn't fast enough and Fllaga had already walked in when he was still in the middle of an attempt to stand up, furiously wiping his face with his sleeves. The older man stopped in his track, looking at him from the doorway with an astonished expression on his face.

"What are you doing?"

Shinn felt like a deer caught in a headlight. He turned around quickly to hide his face and answered gruffly, "Nothing."

He heard the sound of the door being closed and brisk footsteps approaching. "Did something happen?" his coworker asked again, anxiety starting to shade his voice.

"No."

"Then why are you–"

"I said it's nothing!" Shinn snapped, his own voice ringing painfully in his head. Fllaga was not making this easier for him.

There was a moment of silence and Shinn found himself preparing a list of vicious answers in case the older man dared to touch the subject again. The long sigh coming from his coworker, however, told him that it was unnecessary.

"If you say so," the other man sounded defeated and irritated at the same time. "Something happened on my end though, if you care to know."

Shinn looked around fast, already forgetting about the dampness on his face, and flinched when Fllaga slammed his uniform cap on his document-filled table. The older man's face was dark and sullen, like he had just swallowed something thoroughly disgusting, and suddenly Shinn felt his mouth getting dry. It was either he had offended him that much or…

"Representative Ath–"

"No," Fllaga had cut him before he could finish that sentence. "Nothing that bad, but close enough. About two hours ago, PLANT contacted the office of the Head Representative. They refused to endorse the new design of Neutron-jammer. Said they wanted to re-evaluate the design."

"What do you mean refuses?" he demanded, a frown making its way to his brow. "They have signed the agreement."

He was promptly corrected. "Chairman Zala signed the agreement."

"But the Supreme Council has agreed!"

"Through a vote. With three council members substituted and Hayes being the temporary chairman, the situation has changed."

"I thought he's a great supporter of Athrun!" Shinn could hear his tone of voice getting more and more frustrated.

"He is," the older man nodded, sounding increasingly calmer instead, "but the outcome of the vote is different this time. The yea vote lost by a margin of two."

Barely resisting an overwhelming urge to run to the nearest mobile suit available and beat the crap out of PLANT, Shinn settled for kicking the leg of his desk. "This is ridiculous," he hissed and looked again at Fllaga who was eyeing him warily. "How do you know all these?"

"Representative Kelan was ranting to me all the way from the national security meeting."

"It's a mistake to choose him as the temporary chief," he muttered and plopped himself down in a chair. Nim Kelan was nothing like Cagalli, but his family was the second most powerful in ORB after the Athha, which sadly only had one member at the moment. After the poisoning incident, it seemed reasonable to choose him as Cagalli's replacement for the time being, because after all, no one believed that the Lioness of ORB would give in to a trick as cowardly as poisoning.

Fllaga made a noise of assent but the look on his face was unhappy. "The choice isn't ours," he said heavily. "All we can do is to give our utmost support to Kira. He really has a lot in his hands right now. There's the Cygnusia case still and then this thing with the separatist group."

Shinn closed his eyes for a moment and braced himself for another wave of bad news. "What separatist group?" he asked wearily.

"Something called the Flame of ORB," the other man told him. "They suddenly got very active these past few days. Maybe because of what happened to our Head Representative."

He snorted. "Sounds like a bunch of cowards to me."

"Or smart people who recognize the right time to act," Fllaga said neutrally and when Shinn shot him a withering look, quickly added, "Anyway, we should be really careful from now on. Kira needs every help he can get."

That was at least true. Most of the upper echelons of the military trusted the general, having witnessed his capacity and determination themselves during the great war and many skirmishes afterward. The fact that he was Cagalli Yula Athha's long-lost brother only contributed to his escalating reputation. It wasn't at all surprising to see that many had opted turning to him in time of crisis.

"Kelan depends on him a lot," Shinn murmured to himself.

"Yes, but that makes me a little worried," Fllaga said with a frown. "Some of the other representatives don't like this arrangement very much. Even though Kira is unofficially substituting Cagalli, he doesn't exactly have a claim on the Athha house, does he?"

It made Shinn reconsider submitting to his earlier urge, only he would beat the crap out of ORB's representatives this time. "They're fretting over _lineage_ in this condition?" he asked, torn between anger and incredulity.

The older man made a helpless gesture. "They're nobles, Shinn. According to them, lineage is one of the very few things worth fretting about in this world."

"I can't believe this."

"We should've gotten used to unbelievable things by now, don't you think?" Fllaga commented matter-of-factly.

"Aren't you worried?" he barked, irritated that the other man seemed to be able to find the matter much less serious than he was.

But Fllaga didn't answer. His eyes were fixed to the television which was broadcasting afternoon news. Shinn followed his line of sight and felt the breath caught in his throat when he caught a glimpse of long, pink hair. Looking around quickly, he grabbed the control lying on his desk to increase the volume.

"…a shooting incident which has disrupted the meeting between two head of states in Berlin. No one has been reported injured in this incident, including Mediator Lacus Clyne who was also present at the meeting. One shooter has been detained by Eurasian Federation Army, but he is believed to have an accomplice who has managed to escape…"

"I shouldn't say anything about getting used to unbelievable things," Fllaga sounded almost angry to himself. "Hell, what is this world becoming into?"

 _Hell,_ Shinn thought to himself. There was no other word for it.

  
_**End Chapter 20  
** _


	21. Lacus - Defining Fear

  
"Are you _absolutely_ sure that it was her?"

Lacus waited, the silence woven around her heavy and strained as Yzak's sharp question echoed in the hotel room. She understood the need to ascertain, but surely the question could be delivered in a more amiable fashion? And not to mention, this was the fourth or fifth time the white-haired commander had addressed the matter in the last three minutes. Dearka, already frowning at this point, did not seem to appreciate Yzak's lack of faith in him either.

"Yes," the dark-skinned officer finally answered, his voice only a little tense although he was obviously exercising more than just his usual stock of patience.

Yzak once again proved that there was a reason why he was worthy to be entitled 'insensitive' in more ways than one. "Not good enough," he growled, eyes narrowing. "What if it's just a trap? Admit it. You aren't entirely sure, are you?"

"Gee, I don't know, Yzak," Dearka feigned a hopeless sigh, sarcasm dripping profusely from his voice. "She was only my girlfriend a few years back, so no, I don't think I can ID her voice when she is, like, shouting through the phone line or something. Oh, wait a minute. On second thought, I believe it was a man's voice – you know, must be my ears. Maybe I should get them checked–"

"All right!" the commander hissed irritably and Lacus suppressed a smile which was threatening to spoil her perfectly composed expression. "I only asked, you bastard."

"Yeah, you definitely asked for it," the other man mumbled.

Deciding that they were already a hair's breadth away from an out-and-out brawl, Lacus stepped in. "Yzak," she raised her hand slightly, forcing the white-haired man to close his mouth again. "We have already talked about this, haven't we? I thought you agreed to go with the plan."

"We can't afford to make any mistake, Lacus-sama," was the stiff reply. "After the incident yesterday, it will be unwise to act without the utmost caution."

The mediator realized that she didn't have any argument to that, not to the shooting which had almost claimed her life. Inwardly she sighed. Her intentions had been good when she had decided to exploit a little portion of her authority and take the Jule's squad away from regular duty before they broke down under continuous strains in Cygnusia. She had requested them to escort her to this meeting between two head of states in Berlin in which she once again would play moderator, thinking that a little diversion would be good for them.

Her idea, however, had quickly backfired after the incident at the meeting. It left no room for doubt that the intended target was her and this knowledge, of course, had raised the highest degree of alarm among her protectors. Yzak had been able to deal with the aftermath efficiently, including arresting the second shooter just fifteen hours ago, but it didn't necessarily mean that he had forgiven himself for allowing the shooting to happen in the first place.

Lacus had never expected anything short of perfection from the young commander when it came to performing his duties, but this was going _way_ beyond his scope of responsibility. If someone wanted to snipe her from a building twenty-floor high one block away, she couldn't see how he could have prevented it from happening.

An acutely uncomfortable feeling rose inside her chest at the thought. It was a steady throb, flowing slowly with each pulse in her veins along with her blood, from her breast to the very tip of her fingers. It made her feel cold, almost like–

Lacus shook her head slightly, rejecting the idea, and turned the course of her mind away from the matter. It had been done and over with. No use trying to dwell on it before Yzak finished the interrogation. And it wasn't as if any harm had come to her. She was perfectly safe, completely unscathed while the same could not be said about her friends.

Especially Cagalli. And Kira. And maybe Athrun too. Cagalli was having a tug of war with Death himself on his doorstep. Kira bore the mental scars as he trudged along to keep everything in balance. Athrun was still somewhere out there alone, hidden malice shadowing his every step.

She had to be strong. Her friends needed her right now.

"I may be asking a lot from you, Yzak," she said again, looking calmly at her white-haired friend, "but I need to meet Miriallia-san. There must be something very important she needs to tell us, something she cannot say over the phone. I'm aware of the danger of making this meeting, but it's a risk worth taking if she has any information about…"

She ended her sentence with a small, eloquent wave of her hand, letting the commander to fill in the blank himself. And Yzak did. He still had a frown on his face, but Lacus knew that her victory wasn't far ahead. If anything, Yzak was also dying to know about Athrun. Lifelong rivals or not, everyone could tell that their relationship wasn't forged out of hate.

"I can see that you have made up your mind, Lacus-sama," he said at last, resignedly if a little bitterly. "In that case, I have nothing else to say."

"Thank you," she gave the commander one of her sweetest smiles and watched him turn into an interesting shade of red. Sometimes, she had to admit, being exquisitely pretty had its uses, although of course not everybody would fall under her charm that easily. She turned to Dearka and realized that the smirking pilot was a perfect example of such case. It was a good thing that he had taken her side so far.

"The restaurant, 'Chandelier', wasn't it?"

"Yes," he responded promptly. "Nine o'clock tonight."

"And there is nothing suspicious about the place?" she inquired again.

"A perfectly harmless establishment. Just the kind of small restaurant that people enjoy coming to for a quiet dinner with family or friends. Nothing disreputable or fishy."

"I see." Lacus bit her lips. Despite everything she had said to convince Yzak, she wasn't completely sure herself. Kira was the only one beside the three of them who knew and of course she would be extra cautious, but it still wouldn't do to involve innocent civilians if the meeting decided to take a wrong turn after all. She knew what this was about. Miriallia didn't have to say it, because the complete lack of information she had been willing to share over the line already spoke for itself. The meeting would be about Athrun. And looking at what had repeatedly happened to him, they would have to tread carefully when he was involved.

The frown never leaving his face, Yzak seemed to notice her anxiety as well because he suddenly said, "A special unit is ready at your disposal, Lacus-sama."

She looked at him and realized that she would have to reopen the war in another front. "I'm not taking more than one person, Yzak," she replied carefully, preparing herself for the incoming outburst.

And as usual, the commander didn't fail her expectation.

"But that is too risky!" he protested vehemently. "One person! What if this is really an ambush? Your life will be in jeopardy!"

"I will go with Dearka," Lacus answered in the calmest voice she could manage. "I trust he can guard me well. Don't you?"

Quite obviously aware that he couldn't answer the hinted question in his favour without lying a little – _a lot,_ actually – Yzak decided to ignore said question altogether and proceeded with his remonstration.

"Lacus-sama, I really cannot agree to this. After what happened yesterday, it's total madness to allow you to go with only one escort!"

"I don't see any other way," she answered, looking straight into his eyes. "Miriallia-san has specifically mentioned not to bring a big crowd. Having more than one to come with me will attract unnecessary attention."

"Then I'll do it."

"Yzak."

"I will do it," he insisted, his voice leaving no room for argument. Lacus was torn between overflowing gratitude and growing impatience. She appreciated his concern, but the commander couldn't come with her – it would be the most unwise decision she ever made. As surreptitiously as possible, she glanced at Dearka who all but jumped into the argument once she had caught his eyes, apparently as frustrated as she was at this continual display of stubbornness.

"Yzak, we both know _who_ is better suited for the job," the dark-skinned man said, his tone easy but persuasive. That it didn't quite have the desired effect was clear when the commander's eyes flashed dangerously.

"Are you implying that you're better than me, green-coat?"

"I'm not implying anything, Boss." It was obvious that Dearka was trying his best not to grin. "It's a cold hard fact that even though you can lead and dish orders better, I'm practically without equal when it comes to personal combat skill. And despite everything you've said, this is a close-range thing and you know it."

Yzak opened his mouth, the mighty scowl on his face promising many unpleasant retorts to this flagrant insubordination, but the other man had added before he could produce a word. "Besides, don't you need to carry on with the interrogation on the shooting suspects? The investigation is too important to be delayed for another day."

"Yardbirds can do it."

"Yardbirds can _not_ do it," Dearka said insistently. "I probably can but you are much better than me in these things. You know, shouting and intimidating and generally scaring the hell out of people."

It brought a smile to Lacus's lips. She shared a brief, conspiratorial glance with Dearka and dutifully contributed her line. "And if you stay behind, it actually can serve as a good camouflage in addition to everything else."

The look Yzak gave them could only be described as grudging. "Because if I stay behind and follow my schedule, then it means there's nothing important going on somewhere else?"

"Exactly," she nodded. "I will announce that I have a slight cold and cannot go to the dinner. Everyone will assume that I am here in my room, resting."

"That's right, Yzak," Dearka joined in. "Everybody knows that you won't let Lacus-sama out of your sight without at least a battalion of guards."

The commander's face crimsoned again and Lacus wisely stayed silent while Yzak sputtered a disjointed train of angry denials to his smirking subordinate. Said subordinate hardly acknowledged a word and asked instead, "So you'll let us go?"

"Fine, one person," he growled, still visibly flustered, "but the unit will stand by around the restaurant,"

Lacus shook her head. "No, not around the restaurant, they will be too noticeable," she reasoned. "Two blocks away."

"One."

"Deal," she said quickly, her smile so very innocent that it was impossible for Yzak not to realize that he had walked right into that one. His face gained another shade of crimson, although Lacus didn't have the slightest doubt that this one had absolutely nothing to do with her skill to charm people.

She folded her hands on her lap and leant back with a satisfied air. As long as it got the job done.

The rest of the day went by much too slowly. The meeting dragged on and on and Lacus felt like she knew exactly how many clocks there were in the cabinet building after glancing at one of them every two minutes or so. It was not until her pen scratched the last paper she would have to sign for the day that she finally allowed herself the briefest sense of relief.

And now, for the other appointment.

Getting away from the dinner was an easy affair, as her sentiment was evidently shared by the other guests of honour. After the incident on the day before, none of them cared for much festivity. Lacus, faithful to the plan, locked herself in her room for as long as two hours and instructed for a light dinner to be brought up, all under the pretence of coming down with a cold. At half-past eight, a girl with short blonde hair, wearing a knee-length skirt and a lavender blouse, slipped out of her room unnoticed and rendezvoused with a certain dark-skinned man, also dressed in casual attire, in an alley just at the back of the hotel.

"You're all set?" was the only question Dearka asked her before they took off. Lacus could only nod – she was too anxious to make any small talk. One of the many hairpins she used to hold the wig in place grazed uncomfortably against her scalp, but there was nothing she could do about it unless she dared to risk ruining her carefully applied disguise.

The journey was, thankfully, quite uneventful. They had decided to take a cab and arrived at the restaurant in no more than ten minutes. As Dearka had said, it wasn't a big establishment, definitely not one of those fancy places she often found herself end up in due to her current profession. The patrons were mostly families or friends getting together for a pleasant dinner, she couldn't help but notice as they made their way to an empty table for four at the corner of the room. Most of the tables were filled – this increased her worry somewhat, but it should have been expected. Nine o'clock was still a relatively normal hour to have dinner.

They sat down and a waitress came to take their order – two bowls of cream soup, and then milk tea for her and a glass of beer for Dearka. Waiting was a tedious job, but when it came traipsing with dread hand-in-hand, the whole process became nearly unbearable. She tried to focus her mind on other things, namely the conversation going on in the next table, but it still didn't stop her from flinching every time the door swung open to admit a new visitor. It wasn't like her at all that even Dearka started shooting her concerned looks from the corner of his eyes.

"Are you okay?" he asked her in a low voice, deliberately leaving out her name in case someone in a neighbouring table overheard.

"Yes," she forced herself to smile. Dearka only raised his eyebrows and said nothing. He looked completely at ease despite their situation and Lacus silently scolded herself for being so easily intimidated. Being nervous would only attract attention. Usually she was good at these things, but tonight…

Kira's face flashed inside her mind and it brought a sharp pang in her heart. All of a sudden, she wanted to hear his voice. The last time she had called him was this morning, her windowpane still cold with dew and fog under her trembling fingers, and she had had to do anything in her power to keep the quiver out of her voice because she had never heard anyone sounding so… _dead_.

Lacus mentally winced at the word and quickly corrected it. _Tired_. Kira had sounded tired, but then again, he had all the rights in the world to sound tired. She wished that she could be there at his side, to lend him what power she could give, no matter how minute or insignificant. No one deserved to be alone in such difficult times.

She tried not to think if it was him who needed her so badly or the other way around. Selfishness had no place when mutualism was involved.

It still didn't let her escape from the guilt, lingering at the edge of her consciousness like a sharp claw ready to sink into her flesh. She could feel the nails grazing her skin already.

"She's late," Dearka muttered after they had sat without exchanging a word for what seemed to be hours. It was only then when Lacus noticed that she had finished her meal without even realizing it.

"There must be something detaining her," she answered, the most neutral one she could offer him although it sounded almost empty to her ears. She wanted to believe, but her edginess didn't help convincing her that nothing bad had happened.

Dearka glanced at his watch. "Well, we still have about half-an-hour," he told her, his eyes suddenly lit up with amusement, "before someone gets worried about you and decides to send his battalion in."

The unexpected shifting of focus of their conversation took her by surprise and she looked at her companion who was smiling lazily at her. Lacus found herself smiling back. "You should stop saying things like that, Dearka," she reproached him gently. "They'll only make him more upset at me."

"It doesn't matter whether I say those things or not since you'll upset him nonetheless," he pointed out.

"What do you mean?"

"You're always smiling."

Ah. Lacus felt her smile being sewed tightly to her face. She knew where this was going.

"I like to smile," she answered, again neutrally.

"Because everyone likes to see your smile, right?" he said with a grin which looked a tad too sympathetic. "It's an incredibly tough job."

For some reasons, the comment – or maybe the grin – caused a wave a discomfort to rise in her chest. "I don't consider it my job," she told him – as honestly as possible amidst the uneasiness.

The grin didn't falter. "If you say so."

"Besides, it's better to smile no matter what the circumstances are," she heard herself adding. "And I don't know why, but smiling actually makes me feel better."

"Maybe you're right," Dearka admitted, but a firm note in his voice told her that this discussion wasn't over yet. "Still. Yesterday there was an attempt on your life and today you're already smiling like nothing has happened. Don't you even feel fear?"

A good question, Lacus thought silently, but she had come to the answer by herself a long time ago. She was the one who smiled. These classic contradictions couldn't possibly escape her.

"To feel and to show it are two different things," she replied, her voice thinning at the end. His eyes softened a little, though because of what she wasn't certain.

"I understand," Dearka said with a slight nod. "You're really an admirable person. I only hope you don't sacrifice your happiness too much."

Lacus was silent for a moment, the noisy conversation coming from the next table filtering in through her mind unheeded. She wondered if she should rise to the bait. She didn't like discussing this subject – it was an uncharted territory for her – but sometimes she wished that she could.

In the end, the discomfort beat her again and left her seeking for another subject. She tried not to bit her lips in frustration.

"Is that why you said I upset him nonetheless?" And yet she still could sound so unperturbed. Lacus often wondered how she did that.

Dearka leant forward, his eyes dancing with unconcealed amusement, and lowered his voice into a whisper. "He will never admit it to you, but the truth is he's worried. Like, worried _worried_. He really admires you, you know."

She was saved from any need to reply when the door to the restaurant once again opened. Her gaze automatically drifted toward the newcomer and her mouth instantly went dry when a dark-haired man wearing a pair of eyeglasses walked into the place and looked around, his eyes stopping at their table after a moment.

Lacus would have made some sort of exclamation if her voice hadn't been held by something enormous in her throat. She still hadn't been able to move a muscle when he started to walk toward them, the expression on his face tight with so many emotions that perfectly mirrored her own.

Dearka was quicker to recover. He stood up, pulling Athrun into his arms like an old friend, and busily asked him to sit down. Lacus watched their exchange in some kind of trance, both hands weak on her lap, and it wasn't until Athrun's eyes fell on her again that she tried to shake her self out of it.

"You cut your hair," she managed to whisper once she had found her voice again, faint though it was. It brought a small smile to Athrun's face.

"And you change yours," he nodded at her blonde wig. "I like the old one better though."

"I prefer your old style too," she murmured, wishing that the tremor in her voice could subside. It really didn't matter with what hairstyle Athrun saw it fit to reappear. The fact that he was alive and speaking to her was enough.

She could still hardly believe it.

The same waitress approached their table and Athrun quickly made his order before she could take a good look at him. The haircut and glasses provided some camouflage, but Lacus knew that the main reason why no one had yet to recognize the Chairman so far was because no one really _looked_ at him. As far as they were concerned, he was just another guest in the restaurant.

So far.

"You're late for almost an hour," the chiding tone was there in Dearka's voice. Despite his earlier airiness, apparently the dark-skinned pilot had been as worried as she had. "What the hell happened?"

Athrun tensed slightly but his voice hardly betrayed anything. "Oh, you know, the usual. I had to make sure of some things first."

"Yeah, but if only you realize how–"

It was something she knew would happen. She could feel it on her skin and she didn't miss the slight tilting of Dearka's head, and then the rapid glance he sent to the other side of the room and then the widening of his eyes.

She barely flinched when the first shot shattered the thin veneer of tranquillity protecting the restaurant.

"Lacus!"

The next thing she knew, she was already on the floor with Athrun on top of her, the back of her head pounding slightly. There were screaming all around them, adding more chaos to the cacophony of gunshots and china breaking on the floor, and she dimly realized that Dearka was already firing his gun repeatedly. Her mind was numb. Her entire body was numb. She couldn't move a finger, not even when Athrun had moved away to fire a few rounds of his own. The memory of yesterday's shooting, each scene, part, episode, was flitting across her mind like a movie being played ten times too fast. She still remembered everything clearly. The clear blue sky. The blinding sunlight. The drone of someone speaking next to her. And then the quiet, quiet whish – the sound of death missing her by an inch.

It was only then when Lacus finally admitted that it was fear.

"Go! I'll hold them back!"

It was more like she felt instead of saw Athrun nodding. Everything had simply gone autopilot for her. A hand pulled her up and she stood up quickly, still in the shelter of her friend's arms, and they both ran to the direction of the door. Another barrage of shots rang, and she suddenly felt a searing pain on her left shoulder. Everything was too quick and she was too surprised to make any vocal reaction. All she could think of was that they had to run. The door swung shut behind them. Someone burst through, more gunshots and screaming, and her thoughts briefly flew to Dearka. She tried to speak, to catch Athrun's attention, but her throat wouldn't allow it. Her shoulder was throbbing and something warm was soaking through her blouse. The wind was shrill in front of her ears, only drowned by the sound of her heartbeat and the occasional shots. Pedestrians with terrified faces blurred past as they continued to run, Athrun's left arm around her while the other ready at his side with a cocked gun.

They kept running and running, followed by the sound of their own footfalls and echoing fear into the fog of the night.

  
__**End Chapter 21  
**   



End file.
